Wires
by nlizzette7
Summary: "They were the same hard liquor, burning down your throat and to your core and to your brain." When Blair walks back into Chuck's life, the world comes to a screeching halt. Games will be played, tempers will be tested, thirsts will be quenched, and two sparks will go up in flames. AU, Chuck and Blair at boarding school.
1. Prologue

**Chapter One: Prologue**

_You've got wires, going in._

_You've got wires, coming out of your skin._

_You've got tears, making tracks._

_I've got tears that are scared of the facts._

**– Wires by Athlete.**

She wanted to breathe, and he did too.

They were the same hard liquor, burning down your throat and to your core and to your brain. The same wayward souls. They were both fucked up – _but not that much_.

They were both a little dead inside.

His hand curled around hers, rough fingers sinking into her porcelain skin. There were tears in her eyes as the wind whipped at their faces. Music from the party blared behind them. Her heart sunk when his eyes flitted to hers, blazing even in the darkness.

She gasped as her foot slipped on loose gravel.

"It's now or never, Waldorf."

:::'

**Nine Months Earlier**

_September 1__st__, 2007: Somewhere along the Hudson River_

As the 6 PM Metro North dragged along its lakeside rails, Blair Waldorf could only imagine that this was what it would be like to descend into her very own ring of Dante's Inferno. She'd read the novel, knew it was punishment by exile – and that's exactly what she was being subjected to. An unidentifiable stench filled her nose, and the backs of her legs stuck to the maroon seats underneath her. She sighed, rolling her tights up until they reached the very top of her thighs.

"Is this seat taken?"

She glanced up at the pervy old man standing before her, a smarmy grin full of yellowed teeth. His eyes were trained on the dip of her button-down shirt, where the outline of her bra showed through the fabric.

Blair rolled her eyes and dropped her Louis Vuitton into the seat next to her.

"It is now."

The man huffed, the smile dropping from his face in under a second. He hobbled over to the seat in front of her, grumbling something about _prudes _and _icy bitches._

Blair smirked, shifting in her seat. It was nothing she hadn't been called before. Back at home, Blair Waldorf was, ironically, known as the queen of chastity. While other girls counted the notches on their belts at Truth or Dare, her routine answer always remained.

_"I've done everything but."_

Blair sighed, raking her manicured nails through her hair. Outside, the day was grim, unpromising and completely underwhelming. She counted the trees as they whipped by.

_One._

She hated Eleanor.

She'd never really pondered the fact that her mother might feel the same way about her (considering that _she _was the reason why Blair was even on this train). In fact, she rarely thought of her mother at all. She was more of a commonplace entity, a blur in the background, buying the birthday cakes, but never sticking around long enough for the actual cutting. If anything, Blair's heart panged for Dorota, the robust little maid, a transport from Poland who'd so often tolerated Blair's incessant outbursts and rants.

And it was her mother who had shipped her off to Briar House the minute she'd hit junior year, off to where all of the other unwanted "troubled kids" went to be raised by stern headmistresses with sticks up their asses. It was nearly a given that every student enrolled was a direct implant from the Upper East Side – or some variation of the class in Connecticut or Pennsylvania.

Blair closed her eyes as the train passed under a tunnel, kicking at the seat in front of her. A burly man with a balding head swiveled around, searching for the culprit. Blair smiled sweetly, waiting for him to look away before kicking again.

_Two_.

She hated Cyrus. He was insufferably sweet, her mother's chosen lag-on to rebut her father's sordid affair. That bald-headed twit had been stationed at the doorway with a sickening smile as her mother droned out the mandatory sympathy spiel.

_Really, Blair. Don't give me that look. It all works out for the best. You'll be home on holidays, but you'll get the freedom you always wanted. You'll love it there._

Love.

At that moment, Blair couldn't fathom the word.

_Three._

She hated Serena van der Woodsen. She hated blonde hair and blue eyes and _fuck me _grins. She hated those plump lips ratting her out under the guise of being a good friend.

_"I'm really worried about Blair, Eleanor. She hasn't been eating, the bathroom door is always locked, and she has these pills that – "_

Blair slammed her hand down on the windowsill, frightening the elder woman across the aisle. She shot her an apologetic glance, Serena's face invading her mind like a virus.

_Serena's _were the lips that were probably pressed sloppily against Blair's boyfriend's at that very moment.

_Four. _

She meant ex-boyfriend.

"Blair, I'll always love you," Nate had said, exactly what was expected of him. He'd been wearing a crisp green sweater that day, the one she'd picked out for him herself. It had made her heart leap then, had given her hope. But now she saw it for exactly what it was.

He'd been throwing her a bone.

Nate had leaned in to press a pity kiss to her rosy cheek then, and Blair watched his eyes flicker to the leggy blonde across the room. She knew what glances like those meant. Nate Archibald was finally going to get the girl.

And that girl wasn't Blair.

:::

_September 1__st__, 2007: The Briar House Library_

"Well, well," Chuck Bass drawled, straightening out the lapels of his blazer. "Looks like Christmas came early this year."

He stretched out across the window seat, subtly passing Damien Dalgaard his silver flask. The boy took a sip and followed Chuck's gaze to the car that had just pulled up outside. A girl stepped out of it, perfectly balanced on her tall black pumps. Chuck licked his lips, eyes trailing down to the tight fabric of her skirt, stretching tight over her bottom. He'd always had a thing for brunettes – _he had a thing for every girl, really_ – but this one had familiar eyes, a crisp, measured walk that tugged at his memory. He inched closer to the window, but she disappeared before he could get a good look.

"A fine addition to Briar's female population," Damien smirked, leaning back against the wall. Chuck eyed his friend with a steady gaze, taking back the flask.

Dalgaard was a convenience.

If Chuck was going to survive in a place like this, he needed a right hand. Damien was a year younger than him, easily dragged along, challenging him only for amusement, but never for an actual prerogative.

"Look," Chuck scoffed. "Leave the fresh meat to those who know how to handle it."

"Man, you're a total pig," Damien laughed, tilting his head back. "How do you even get girls?" Damien paused, glancing at the flask in his friend's hand. "And how did you get _that_? If the headmistress sees – "

"I'm _Chuck Bass_."

It had come to be an automated response to most questions. It happened so often, in fact, that he thought of it as impulsively as a twitch or a cough.

Chuck had coined the phrase from his own father, the emperor of Manhattan with an exiled son. Bart Bass had sent him away to the Briar House last year at sixteen – with good riddens.

An alcoholic offspring had a way of flattening even the most reputable of men.

Chuck sank back, still tasting the words on his tongue. The phrase was cocky, sure. But it was an illusion of grandeur – the only way to make it to the top. You'd make people believe that you had the answer to every question –

And they'd never doubt you for a second.

Chuck continued, eyes flitting to the abandoned courtyard, the limo rolling away. "I can take anything I want."

:::

_September 1__st__, 2007: Dexter Hall Dormitories_

"Hi, I'm Jenny."

The girl looked so startlingly like Serena that it threw Blair off balance the minute she trudged into the room, forced her to blink and blink again. She studied the mousy blonde's perky smile, the golden ringlets that framed her face in disgust. This Jenny was exactly the kind of girl that would snatch your boyfriend right from under you – and play innocent while doing it. For the first time since she'd arrived, Blair was grateful to be miles away from her ex.

"This has to be a mistake," Blair sighed, impatient. She glanced down at the slip of paper in her hands, comparing it to the gold plaque on the door behind her. _24A_. She frowned, turning back to the girl. "I belong in a single room." Blair paused to clarify. "On my _own_."

"I – um – it's not a mistake," Jenny stammered. "I totally get it – the whole roommate thing kind of blows. Back in Brooklyn, my brother and I lived in this tiny loft, and there were _no _boundaries. It was just – "

"Brooklyn," Blair murmured, cutting her off. She picked up her Louis Vuitton leather case and dropped it onto the opposite bed. "How quaint." She drummed her fingernails on the cover before snapping it open. Jenny tugged her bottom lip between her teeth as Blair unpacked her pristine piles of clothing and accessories. She splayed them out neatly on her bed before turning her attention to the case's matching trunk, which held a few weathered novels, a makeup case, and a jewelry box – Tiffany blue.

"You're, like, really pretty," Jenny continued, her cheeks flushing scarlet almost immediately. Blair glanced up in surprise. "In person, I mean. I've always known of you, but I've never really – " Jenny drew in a breath, composing herself. Blair wondered if she'd ever learned how to speak in complete sentences. "You're Blair _Waldorf_. You're Gossip Girl famous."

"Please do continue to inform me of things I already know."

"Oh God, I'm sorry. I just – I went to Constance, too. You were – are – my _idol_."

Blair perked up, glancing back at Jenny's hopeful eyes. Maybe this wasn't as doomed as it seemed. Blair sifted through her bag, finding the sole survivor of her wardrobe cleanse back at home. The gold-encrusted Jennifer Behr headband was wrapped in tulle. Blair stared at it for a moment before slipping it through her curls.

It was then that she took another black band from her bag, this one less expensive, less extravagant, and she handed it to Jenny.

"Blair – I can't – I can't take this."

Blair sighed, crossing her arms as she turned to the girl. "Do you want to know how I got to the top, Jenny?"

Jenny nodded, eagerly attentive to her newfound mentor. Blair smirked, tossing the headband onto the blonde's lap.

"You take _anything_ you want. No questions asked."

:::

_September 1__st__, 2007: The Briar House Assembly Hall_

Jenny was thrilled.

It wasn't as if she was unpopular at Briar House. She'd only been to the reformatory for a year and had collected a handful of acquaintances, a few hobbies; she was even a designer for the costume department at The Briar House Theater.

But she preferred to keep to herself, fixating on the old-fashioned sewing machine she kept in her closet, making dresses that she could never wear for a girl that she would never be.

So it was like God had finally taken pity on her, sending Blair _Waldorf_ to her door. She'd watched her unpack the rest of their things, admired the framed photograph of Audrey Hepburn that she hung up over her bed. Jenny had practically swooned, biting her lip from admitting that _Blair _was Jenny's Audrey.

There were other things, too. Like the gorgeous ruby ring that Blair had worked around her finger once, twice, three times, before sliding it off and tucking it into her jewelry box. And then there was another frame, an expensive one that held a picture of Blair and a blonde who Jenny recognized _instantly_. It was Serena van der Woodsen, Blair's reckless counterpart. She was just about to ask about it when Blair shoved open her desk drawer and threw the picture inside, silencing Jenny immediately.

And now they were making their way to the first assembly of the school year, Jenny close on Blair's tail, adjusting the gifted headband in her hair. She made a mental note to make more of her own, designer knock-offs that might slip past Blair's notice.

"So this is the assembly hall," Jenny breathed, struggling to keep up with Blair. The brunette preferred to remain a step ahead of her, and she obliged. It gave her a chance to observe the way she walked, imitating the confident swish of her hips. Blair had changed into their mandatory uniform upon her arrival. But next to Jenny, it looked like she was donning an entirely different outfit. Her white button-down was fitted perfectly, the thin silver pendant around her neck popping against the material. Her blue skirt was shorter, swishing around her thin legs. Jenny glanced down at her own patent loafers, juvenile compared to Blair's short red heels.

"It looks like the one at Constance," Blair sighed, fighting the wave of nostalgia. She glanced around, eyes focused on the other students. "Who's that?" Blair narrowed her eyes, nodding her head at the girl standing at the center of the small crowd in front of them, a brunette with a long nose and wide lips. A gaggle of girls giggled around her, much like Blair's minions had back in Manhattan.

"Penelope Hayford," Jenny murmured. "She's the…_you_ of Briar House."

Blair rolled her eyes. "_I'm _the me of Briar House."

"Right, I only meant – "

"Her Balenciaga is last season," Blair remarked. "And that lipstick is ridiculous at any time before the sun sets."

"Ugh, yeah. You're right. You're _totally _right," Jenny agreed. She followed Blair inside, brushing past as the crowd eyed the new girl carefully. Blair ignored them, eyes searching for a seat and –

"Blair Waldorf."

_Oh God. _Blair tensed, glancing up at the boy standing in her way. Chuck Bass had clearly hit puberty – and he'd hit it well. His jaw was set firm, his hair tastefully slicked back, his eyes glinted with bits of amber and noir. But his lips, slightly fuller now, were still set in a smarmy grin.

"Chuck Bass," Blair smirked. "I'd almost forgotten that they'd sent you off to Briar."

"I saw you earlier," he said. "But I thought I had been mistaken. I can't imagine why you would ditch your throne for a place like this."

"It wasn't exactly by choice," Blair murmured.

"Hm," Chuck mused, eyes raking over her. "I see that you've matured well."

Blair pursed her lips. "And I see that you haven't."

It was then that Jenny braved a step forward, glancing between them. "Are you two friends?"

Chuck grinned, keeping his eyes on Blair when he replied, "Oh, Waldorf and I go way back."

:::

_August 5__th__, 2005: The Vanderbilt Pool House in Connecticut_

Blair had never seen the point of playing party games. Even at the age of fourteen, it was beneath her, something to be saved for low quality John Hughes movies and rebellious teens stuck in Hicksville. But there she was, sitting in Nate's pool house as her friends fell all over each other on the floor, intoxicated off of William Vanderbilt's fine brandy.

Blair sniffed, turning up her nose.

_Abhorrent._

"Come on, B," Serena slurred. "You have to play."

Blair flinched as the blonde threw herself over Nate's lap in a fit of giggles. It seemed that Serena had sprouted another cup size and a will to seduce Blair's crush over the summer. It was true that Nate didn't _belong _to Blair, not yet anyway.

But that didn't stop the nausea that washed over her in that moment.

"She doesn't want to play," Chuck smirked, his hair unruly at fourteen, his cheeks still slightly ruddy and dimpled. "Waldorf is too much of a prude."

Blair recoiled, willing the heat on her cheeks to disperse. She glared at the devil himself, shooting him the dirtiest look she could manage under her embarrassment.

"Why are you even _here_, Bass?" Blair snarled, tucking her hands under her thighs. "Don't you have other people to torment?"

Chuck quirked an eyebrow, clearly amused. For a fleeting moment, Nate detached himself from Serena to glance up at Blair.

"You're seriously not going to play?"

Blair swallowed, choosing to ignore the condescension under Nate's airy tone. It was then that she lifted her chin, sinking down to the floor between Kati and Isobel, keeping a safe distance from that Basstard. But still, he persisted, making eyes at her, waggling his eyebrows.

"The name of the game is Seven Minutes in Heaven," Chuck drawled.

Blair shifted, growing uncomfortable as her friends squealed in excitement, as Chuck's eyes held hers.

"_What_?" she hissed.

"Nothing," he smirked. A bottle surfaced from behind him, and he placed it at the center of their little disjointed circle. "Care to spin first, Waldorf?"

Blair glanced up, her throat tightening. "I – "

"I'll go," Serena called, lunging across the small space. Blair rolled her eyes as the neckline of her friend's tiny dress dipped. And Chuck and Nate's attentions were lost.

"_S_," Blair spat, gesturing at the slip. Serena giggled in apology, doing little to fix herself as she sent the bottle spinning across the floor. Blair held her breath as it slowed on its final turns.

And landed directly on –

"Natey," Serena giggled, throwing her arms around the boy's neck. Nate laughed, hands slipping around her thin waist as he shot the rest of the room a pleased shrug. They disappeared into the hallway, and Serena's giggles ceased, a door slammed shut. Blair seethed, teeth grinding together in a way her mother would have scolded her for. They sat in silence for a whole minute before Chuck spoke up again.

"Well, who wants to go next?"

Blair narrowed her eyes. "Aren't we supposed to wait for them to come back?"

"If you want the game to drag on all night," Chuck retorted. He leaned forward, reaching for the bottle. "I myself prefer immediate gratification." She, Kati, and Isobel watched as the bottle made its rounds. Chuck sat back, awaiting his temporary fate. It truly was a win-win-_win_ situation for him.

And then it stopped on Blair.

"_No_. I'll pass."

"It doesn't work that way."

"That's too bad. I'm changing the rules. Passes allowed."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "_My_ game, my rules."

"But – "

"Unless you forfeit the game," Chuck challenged, knowing exactly what he was doing. "But last time I checked, queens weren't famous for surrender." Blair faltered, side-glancing at Kati and Isobel, who were clearly waiting for her next move. She wondered what they would think of another thing that Serena was willing to do while Blair wasn't.

Blair swallowed, weighing her options.

And then she was following Chuck into the hall.

They walked past the closet, as it was clearly occupied. The eternal masochist, Blair paused at the closet door, desperate to eavesdrop on the blonde duo. Chuck rolled his eyes, grasping her arm and tugging her into a room down the hall. Blair recognized it as Tripp's bedroom immediately – he was the wisest of the Vanderbilt cousins, and every surface was covered with maps and dusty textbooks. She was just about to comment on it when she felt a wash of hot breath on her neck, hands on her hips.

"_What _are you doing?"

"Is the object of the game escaping you?"

Blair gulped as he turned her around. Her chest brushed his with an intimacy she couldn't quite grasp. One hand slid lower, and she realized that she'd never been touched so firmly – never with such a clear purpose. Chuck's head ducked, his lips pursed with an obvious destination.

And then she panicked.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Waldorf?"

"I – "

"You _slapped _me."

Blair rolled her eyes. "Don't be a baby."

"Don't be a bitch." He dropped his hand from his face and glared at her. "Is this why you dragged me in here?"

Blair let out a hesitant breath. "Can't we just – talk?"

"Is that what you think Nate and Serena are doing?" Chuck smirked, cupping his own jaw. "_Talking_?"

"I don't know," she murmured. "And I don't care."

"Now, we both know that's a lie," he retorted, braving a step towards her. They were silent for a moment before Chuck took a different approach. "You're much hotter than her, you know."

Blair glanced up at him in surprise. "What?"

"Serena." Chuck grinned before he went on. "She's sexy, all breasts and legs, belongs on a cover of _Maxim_, maybe _Playboy _– "

"Bass," Blair hissed, exasperated.

"But _you_," Chuck continued, and there he was again, hands on her waist. "You've got these wild eyes, porcelain skin, curled lips – " Chuck leaned in, whispering the words as Blair held her breath. " – so easily _breakable_." She gulped at the connotation of his words. Chuck's hand was on the hem of her crisp white dress, dragging it up until her thighs were bare to him, as was the lace of her white undershorts. "So _pure_."

His lips descended on hers at the word, and Blair's eyes flew open in surprise before settling into the kiss. Blair had been used to polite pecks, even one from Nate when they were in middle school, but _this _was different. Chuck's tongue traced across her pale lip gloss, forcing her mouth open and thrusting his tongue inside.

"_Oh_," Blair gasped against his lips. Chuck let out a strangled groan as he pushed her back against the wall behind them, parting her legs with one knee. He smirked when he felt her, damp against his thigh. She clearly wanted him, but her frigid demeanor betrayed her desire. Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides. Chuck reached down to thread her fingers with his, gripping tight as he ground his hips against hers, thrusting against the barrier of his pants and her panties.

He blinked, digging his fingers into her skin, forcing himself to believe that he was standing there, practically dry-humping Blair Waldorf as they held hands. _Every fourteen year old boy's wet dream._

"You have to stop," Blair protested. But her hips betrayed her, meeting him thrust for thrust. "I can't – I feel – "

"Don't be afraid of it," Chuck had groaned, barely recognizing the feeling himself. He'd lost his virginity earlier that summer, an unfortunate encounter that had felt _nothing _like this. To see Waldorf moaning and panting and scratching at his arms as he worked himself against her – it set him off. He tugged her closer, until there was no space left to thrust. He grasped her hair, gently pushing her face into the curve of his neck as he rubbed her up and down.

They were _so _close. He could feel it as she let out a choked "_Chuck_" against the damp skin under his ear.

"That's right," he rasped, his movements still broken with inexperience at the age. "Just - Right there." He dragged her up and down, fingers curling into her hair, tighter, pulling, and he was going to – He was _just _about to –

"_Stop_," Blair gasped, shoving him away. Her cheeks were flushed, her skin burning. Chuck reached for the bureau behind him as he stumbled back, painfully hard. "Oh God, Oh _God_."

"Actually, it's Chuck," he deadpanned. But Blair was ignoring him, fixing her hair in the mirror, straightening her dress.

"This never happened," Blair breathed. She repeated it again and again under her breath like a mantra, her eyes cold.

"Blair – "

"Do you _realize _who I am?" Blair spat, her hand poised on the doorknob. "Who _you_ are?"

"I'm quite aware of who you are," Chuck replied. "In fact, I was just about to know you _very _well."

"_Don't_," Blair hissed. "If tell anyone about this, Bass, I'll ruin you."

Chuck paused for a moment, incredulous. Finally, his gaze hardened. He ignored the odd panging in his chest, the attraction that just wouldn't fade. He squared his stance.

He smirked, beating her to the door before pushing through it himself. "Tell anyone about _what_?"

:::

_September 1__st__, 2007: The Briar House Assembly Hall_

"We're _not_ friends," Blair seethed, brushing the memory away. Chuck watched as her cheeks flared red, relishing in it. Blair grasped Jenny's arm as she tugged her down the aisle, pushing past Chuck.

"I'll see you around, Waldorf."

"I highly doubt that."

"My school, my rules," he called again, not missing a beat. Blair weakened at the familiarity of the words, closing her eyes for a moment. She'd be lying if she said that she'd tucked that memory away, erased it from her various indiscretions. But Chuck Bass had a way of flooding her mind when she least expected it. Maybe it wasn't enough to pretend it had never happened.

She glanced back, caught his gaze as they settled into their seats. He winked at her before turning to another girl, flicking the hem of her skirt as she giggled.

Maybe she'd unraveled something that had only just begun.

* * *

**Things to know before reading this story:** _Wires _begins at the same time the original pilot of Gossip Girl did. Nate, Serena, and Dan will make a few appearances here and there, but Blair, Chuck, Damien, Jenny, Penelope, and Eric are the core cast. _Wires _is also darker than my other series. It focuses in on Blair and Chuck's individual issues and the mind games that arise when they come together. The writing style is also a bit different, along with mature content (future smut, dark themes, and language).

* * *

**Author's Note: **Okay, so I've had this on my computer for weeks, and I finally got a few minutes to edit it. I just wanted to throw it out there (as promised) to see what you guys think of it. So reviews would be MUCH appreciated. I'll definitely be focusing on the finale of _ABF _this week and another installment of _Begin Again_. So yeah. I hope you enjoyed it.


	2. At the Brink of Enchantment

**Chapter Two: At the Brink of Enchantment**

_It's been a long year since we last spoke. How's your halo? _

_Just between you and I - You and me and the satellites._

_I never believed you. I only wanted to - before all of this._

_What did I miss? Do you ever get homesick? _

_I can't get used to it. I'll never get used to it_

**– For Blue Skies by Strays Don't Sleep.**

:::

You can't really come to know a new place without exploring every crevice of it, every nook and cranny and hidden shadow of it, on your own. Blair couldn't make her slow ascent into ruling The Briar House without knowing it inside out, just as a queen would memorize the plots of lands she conquered. And so, on the weekend before classes officially began, Blair shrugged a trench coat on, tucked her hair into a jet black beret and set off across campus on her own.

_Briar was another world._

It was made up of three enormous buildings: the girls' dormitories – Dexter Hall, the boys' dormitories – Wentworth Hall, and the main building, which held all of the classrooms and recreational centers. The cement bricks were painted in strings of ivy, as rustic as the townhouses were on the more acceptable part of the Lower East Side back in Manhattan. The pathways were complicated, intersecting and overlapping across sprawling fields that were kept green by the staff of groundkeepers. There were gardens, too. Sprouting ones that held extravagant fountains and flowers that were much too tailored to be real.

Blair had seen much of the inside, disappointed in finding nothing to complain about. Everything was high-tech, first-class, _only the best_. Only the rich could make prison seem like a home away from home. And the room she shared with Jenny had quickly been altered into an exact replica of Blair's suite at the Waldorf Penthouse, her quiet roommate being strung along for the ride. Her bed sheets were Egyptian cotton, swirls of gold and purple. Her vanity was littered, her closet space overflowing with an array of products that would put a floor of Bloomingdales to shame. She'd had her television brought in too – Briar wasn't exactly the place for communal movie nights and joint student bonding – to which Jenny avoided looking at, lest Blair think she was taking advantage.

Blair thought it was ridiculous.

She'd been sprawled out on the opposite bed, much higher with Blair's new mattress, glancing at Jenny, whose head was hidden behind a book.

"You can watch the movie, Jenny," Blair sighed, gesturing at the screen. In front of them, Audrey Hepburn was taking a sip of coffee, decked out in her signature slinky black dress and silver tiara.

"I mean, it's your TV," Jenny murmured. "I didn't want to – "

Blair rolled her eyes. "And now I can't hear with you talking."

Jenny waited a moment before setting the book down and dropping belly first onto the bed to watch _Breakfast at Tiffany's. _Blair kept her face stern, but as the blonde ooh'ed and aah'ed over Blair's collection of classics, she let out the smallest of smiles.

Which Jenny didn't see, of course.

Blair concluded her little tour with a trip down to Briar's sports fields, on the outskirts of the campus, right where the woods began. She sucked in a breath when she noticed the sea of boys tossing a football down the expanse of green. She nearly tripped, slipping on a rock, when one, then two, then all of them turned to look at her. She glanced to the right of her on impulse, so used to boys gawking at Serena whenever they went out.

But Serena wasn't there.

Blair pursed her lips, straightening herself. They were all so _handsome_ in their uniforms – perfectly trimmed haircuts, their uniforms disheveled, ties loose around their necks. It was then that she noticed a few sprawled out on the grass, off to the side. One was at the center of them all, smoke dripping from his lips in full view.

Blair swallowed as Chuck's eyes brightened, holding her gaze. If this was hell, Bass was certainly the devil. There was something horribly appealing about that smug look on his face, the way his hair flipped back in the wind. He tossed his cigarette to the ground, the side of his mouth lifting as he nodded at her, winking.

_God_, he was infuriating.

She spun on her heel, stomping back up the hill. But Blair made the mistake of casting one more glance behind her, to where he was still staring at her retreating form.

And she wondered if it was simply a coincidence that Chuck Bass happened to be _everywhere_.

Or if it had something to do with her recent arrival.

:::'

_September 7__th__, 2007: The Briar Dining Hall_

The dining hall was going to be a problem.

Blair slid her tray beside Jenny's, scanning the row of platters – gourmet sandwiches, an array of breads and cheeses, a rainbow of fruits, flatbread pizza, hor d'oeuvres that would be better suited for a society luncheon than a simple day of school. She watched in disdain as Jenny piled on the appetizers, the food nearly toppling over when she lifted her tray.

At Constance, Blair never had to worry about this. A grape here, a scoop of yogurt there, and no one ever noticed. But that was in Manhattan, Blair's former kingdom. Briar didn't exactly allow for a quick run to the deli after fifth period. She was stuck there for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Blair blanched, cursing whoever thought of _living _at school.

"I usually eat in the theater, but…" Jenny trailed off, realizing how uncool she sounded. "Everyone eats in the hall's patio, until it gets too cold in November."

Blair glanced up at the cluster of students outside. "Well, it's not the steps of the MET." But she shrugged anyway, tossing a blood orange Chobani onto her tray and taking the lead as they stepped through the glass doors.

They only took two steps before they were intercepted.

Penelope Hayford was going to be a problem, too.

"Blair Waldorf, right?" A faux smile was plastered on Penelope's face, a sneer hidden behind it. She snapped her entourage to attention, a pathetic group of clones trailing her. The entire dining hall turned to them then, awaiting the showdown that was bound to come. They all knew Penelope, and they'd all heard of Blair's trysts in Manhattan.

Something was _bound _to go down.

"Hey Penelope," Jenny chirped, lifting her hand in a curt wave.

"Oh." Penelope glanced at her, the smile fading from her lips. "Jill, right?"

When Jenny didn't bother to correct her, Blair sighed impatiently. "Her name is Jenny." She cocked her hip, eyes flitting to the students that made up their little audience. She was immediately drawn to Chuck, who sat at the center table, intrigued by the spectacle unfolding before him. He was surrounded by the boys she'd seen smoking with him on the fields before. Blair turned back to Penelope. "Can I help you?"

Penelope flinched at Blair's cold reception, clearly perturbed. "Well, the Hayfords and the Waldorfs go way back."

"Do they?" Blair mused. "Isn't Hayford the name of a farm?"

"It's not – " Penelope huffed, cutting herself off. "Look, I'm inviting you to sit with us."

Blair held in a laugh, a sympathetic little smile on her lips. "Thanks, but I'm not interested." The crowd seemed to let out a collective gasp when Blair moved past her, eyes searching for another table. Penelope seethed, yanking Blair's elbow back.

"Did you _hear _what I just said? This offer doesn't get extended twice."

Blair rolled her eyes. "Look, Penelope, is it? I may be new to Briar, but I've had years on the throne. I don't _do _hand-outs." Blair glanced down. "Especially from fake Prada bearing hands."

Penelope swallowed. "This isn't fake."

"Is that what Daddy told you?" Blair smirked. "_Please._ I can smell the pleather from here. Now, if you'll excuse me – "

"You're going to regret this," Penelope spat under her breath.

"I highly doubt that," Blair replied with a small shrug.

Penelope let out a harsh breath, spinning on her heel. She summoned her tag-alongs as she walked back to her table. But one lingered, a tall girl with black hair dropping to her hips. She leaned towards Blair with a small smile.

"Your headband is fab," the girl murmured. She nodded at Jenny. "Yours too."

Blair cocked her head to the side. "Thanks."

"Look, I hate Penelope anyway. She's a total bitch," the girl confessed, her eyes pleading. "I'm – "

"Diana!" Penelope hissed from across the courtyard, furiously waving her hands. Blair glanced over Diana's shoulder, realizing that Penelope had gone to sit beside Chuck, nearly hanging over his lap. But his eyes were on Blair. Chuck smiled at her as Penelope ranted at him, a look of – awe? – on his face.

"I'll see you two later," Diana sighed, snapping Blair to attention. Blair nodded absently, offering her a small smile before leading Jenny to a table near the gates.

"Oh my _God_," Jenny breathed. "Did you see her face? You're legendary. I thought she was going to pass out."

Blair smirked, setting her tray down across from Jenny. "Jenny, you're drooling." Jenny rolled her eyes with a newfound comfort that Blair hadn't realized they'd reached. In turn, Blair stuck out her tongue at the girl. From the way Jenny's face lit up, you'd think that Blair had just gifted her one half of those tacky grade school friendship bracelets.

"So, yeah. Maybe we could – "

"Blair Waldorf, proving that you can take the bitch out of Manhattan, but – "

Blair spun around, recognizing the voice instantly. Being the only child, Blair had clung onto the only semblance of a younger sibling that had been around as she grew up. She'd treated Eric van der Woodsen as a younger brother for as long as she could remember. In fact, _she _had been the first person he'd officially come out to. To which Blair had replied, _"God, Eric. I don't care if you're gay. As long as you don't end up dressing better than I do."_ Blair had ruffled his hair with compassion that she didn't normally allow.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Eric had laughed.

"_Eric_," Blair cooed, throwing her arms around the boy's neck. She quickly composed herself, lest anyone think that she was going soft. Her voice dropped when she spoke again. "I feel like I haven't seen you in years."

"That's because you haven't," Eric replied. He dropped beside Jenny, hugging her side. Blair raised her eyebrows, glancing between the two.

"You two know each other?"

"Eric's my best friend," Jenny grinned. She paused, considering her words with wide eyes. "I mean, not my _only _best friend. Because you – "

"_Please_, Jenny," Blair smirked. "I'm hardly offended." She glanced at Eric. "So, little van der Woodsen, you'll have to catch me up on the years I missed."

Eric smiled. "Sure, Blair." His expression softened. "And…I know what my sister did to you. I'm so sorry."

"We're not discussing that," Blair coughed. "Serena isn't here, is she? So let's not dampen the mood." Jenny glanced up with interest, dying to know what they were talking about. But Eric simply nodded, and Blair was quick to change the subject.

"It's really a miracle that they found each other," Blair sniffed, nodding at Penelope, Chuck, and the others across the yard.

"They're harmless," Eric sniffed. "Nothing compared to the Upper East Side. It's Chuck Bass who you have to worry about. He's a ticking time bomb."

"Hm," Blair said, watching them all laugh at something Chuck said. "What are they, his congregation of sleaze?"

Eric and Jenny laughed, sharing a knowing look.

"Does she not know?" he asked Jenny. Blair frowned, irritated that there was something she wasn't in on.

"Don't I know what?"

Eric nodded at the group again. "Every good boarding school has a secret society."

Blair coughed on her yogurt. "You're kidding."

"The Victors," Jenny said, pointing to Chuck.

"And Victrolas," Eric finished, rolling his eyes at Penelope.

Blair scoffed. "Sounds ridiculous." She paused. "And tasteless." But it was a blatant lie. These were the things that Blair lived for. She wanted in, despite the club's poor choice in leadership.

"Maybe to you," Eric said. "But a spot with them means parties in the backwoods, all of these crazy rituals and pranks that date back to when Briar first opened. It's the most coveted membership around." Eric laughed, nudging her leg under the table. "Initiation starts in October, if you're interested."

"Hmph," Blair murmured, flicking her hair back to catch another glance at the cluster of students at the center table. Already, Chuck caught her glance, and Diana smiled at her again. Blair smiled back, eyes skipping Chuck as she sat back.

For Blair Waldorf, it was all or nothing.

And it would only be a matter of time before she achieved the former.

:::

_September 10__th__, 2007: The Briar House Library_

Chuck found her perched on his favorite window seat in the library two days after the cafeteria debacle, behind the abandoned reserves, where the old hags at the front desk were too lazy to catch him drinking his afternoons away between classes. It was fucking ridiculous, really. He'd never drunk more before he arrived at Briar.

It was unintentional pleasantry.

Chuck licked his lips, then licked them again when he saw Blair draped across the seat with a thick book in her tiny hands. The light trickled down the strands of her hair, following to the dip of her school shirt. One leg was crossed over the other, her blue kilt riding up to the very top of her thighs, where her stockings ended in a maze of lace. His hands jerked at his sides, his mind filling with the events that had taken place in Tripp Vanderbilt's room two years ago. He felt the curve of her hips, tasted her tongue as it had been yesterday. Chuck adjusted his collar, swaying on his feet.

And he wasn't even drunk yet.

"Waldorf," he drawled, plopping down at the other end of the throw pillow, eyeing her. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Blair let out a crisp, exasperated sigh, her eyes flitting up to him for a second before returning to her book. "My misfortune, apparently."

"Hm," Chuck laughed. "So coy." He tapped the spine of her book, his hand brushing her knee. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"Are you?" she retorted. "I thought you were stalking me."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Chuck smirked. "Maybe I am. That was quite the show you pulled with Penelope the other day. I see that you've still got it."

Blair rolled her eyes at her book, lifting it as a barrier between their faces. Chuck grinned, making sure to touch her hand when he pushed the book down again, holding it to her lap. But still, she blatantly ignored him, focusing on the pages in front of her.

"So, where's your shadow?" Chuck tried again, drumming his fingers on her leg. Blair glanced at his fingers, then at him. But she said nothing. Usually, this would be his point of retreat or pure boredom. But Waldorf…she was something else. _Something _held him there – something masochistic.

"Where's Jenny?" he went on, persistent. Blair let out a sharp breath, and the book snapped shut, nearly closing on Chuck's fingers. She looked up at him with all of the nonchalance she could muster up.

"Where's Damien?"

"Answering a question with a question? That's a bit juvenile, don't you think?"

"Is that a problem?" Blair asked, just to spite him. She fought the smile on her lips, but it came anyway, tugging until her whole face lit up. Chuck grinned again.

_Hook, line, and sinker._

"I'm afraid that Dalgaard won't be gracing us with his presence," Chuck said.

Blair regarded him for a moment, eyes narrowed. "Nate used to be your best friend." It wasn't exactly what he was expecting, but he wasn't surprised either. Blair had always had an inexplicable fixation on his old friend. It was this golden complex she had, like she was desperate for perfection, and Nate was as close as it got.

Chuck got a sudden urge to bend that desire.

"He used to be your boyfriend," Chuck challenged, leaning forward. Blair swallowed, her hand curling in her lap, feeling the pinch of the ruby ring on her finger. Of course, it didn't escape Chuck's notice. Nothing ever did. "It's a little pathetic when divorcees hold onto their wedding rings. You should really learn to let go." His words set Blair off, and she fumed, turning away from him in her seat. She opened the book again, eyes looking but not really reading. She focused on the same line over and over again, forcing herself to concentrate.

_Engage people with what they expect; it is what they are able to discern and confirms their projections_.

"Did I say something wrong, Waldorf?"

_Engage people with what they expect; it is what they are able to discern – _

"You're wounding me, Blair."

_Engage people with what they expect – _

"Why the cold – "

His hand found her shoulder, fingers spreading to her collarbone. Blair tensed, closing her book again.

"They say that if you ignore a dog's bark for long enough, it'll stop." She dragged her eyes to him. "Living Environment, Period Two."

Chuck's lips pursed in faux shock, amusement lighting his eyes. "You've got a clever tongue. I bet I could put it to better use."

"How _charming_," she smirked, finally getting up from her seat. It was then that his hand darted out of its own accord, his fingers grasping her wrist before she could go. Blair stared down at their hands, losing her breath. He pulled his hand away, using it to lift her chin, beckoning her to look at him.

"Wait. Tell me you remember," Chuck insisted. Blair looked away, up at the ceiling, to the dusty shelves, anywhere but at him. But he squeezed her hand harder, yanking her down, level with him. "I know that you remember."

"I don't – "

"You remember – that night at the Vanderbilts'," he repeated. Blair wondered how eyes could darken to pitch black in just one second, his shift in moods giving her whiplash. She fought the memories, but they came anyway. A hazy night, a back room, and his hand, the one on her now, tracing across her skin – yanking, pulling, tugging. Blair shut her eyes in shame, the memories tainting her mind like a plague.

She parted her lips, let out a breath. "So what if I do remember?" Blair yanked her hand away. "For you, that was just a failed conquest."

Chuck shook his head. "And for you?"

Blair wanted to know what he wanted from her. It had to be some game he was playing because she was new, because he temporarily had the upper hand. "For me, it was a mistake." His eyes narrowed as she went on. "Besides, shouldn't you be after Penelope?"

He sat back, considering this for a moment. "Interesting."

"What?"

He cocked his head to one side. "What I initially considered rudeness – " He smiled. "Turns out to be jealousy."

"Jealousy implies that one cares," Blair corrected. "Which I don't."

"We'll see. You've been sitting here with me for a half hour. That's awfully long for someone who doesn't care." He stood to up to face her, glancing down at her lips. "You'll give in, Waldorf. You and I, we're the same. We have our vices, we have our issues, let's explore them together."

Blair rolled her eyes. "Don't hold your breath." She backed away, already hearing the sea of students entering the library for fifth period. "As a matter of fact, _do _hold your breath. Because that'll never happen."

:::

_September 15__th__, 2007: English 120, The Main Hall_

"The themes of _Pride and Prejudice_," Mr. Higgins called, pacing the front of the classroom. Of course, Blair was the first to raise her hand. And of course, Chuck rolled his eyes from across the room.

She resisted the urge to give him the finger.

"Yes, Ms. Waldorf?"

"Courtship," she replied, clasping her hands atop her desk.

Higgins raised his eyebrows, urging her to continue. "That's a new one. Can you expand on that?"

"Well," she sighed, flipping through her copy of the novel. "Each courtship takes on a different meaning in the story, an allegory for the different classifications of love. For example, Austen used Darcy's courtship of Elizabeth as a plot device. Obviously, he had feelings for her from the start. But he was _insufferable_, going about it in the wrong way. And so she was right to be intolerant of his idiocy."

"I beg to differ."

The entire room glanced up at Chuck, Blair included, as he challenged her.

"Mr. Bass," Higgins said. "I'm glad that you're finally deigning us with your participation."

"Yeah, whatever," Chuck drawled. "Elizabeth's pride is what doomed them from the start. She was too up on herself to realize that Darcy was the object of her desire."

"Darcy was a stoic _bastard_," Blair hissed. "And Elizabeth was clearly protecting herself. It was _his _pride that ruined everything."

"Yeah, and Elizabeth was a frigid bi – "

"Alright, Chuck, Blair. I do encourage you to continue this discussion outside of the classroom," Higgins scolded. "But let's give other students a chance to speak now." Blair rolled her eyes and Chuck relished in his self-awarded victory. It was then that she felt a shift in the desk next to her, a voice in her ear.

"And then there was Wickham." Blair glanced up at the boy with short blonde hair, clear blue eyes. With his kind grin and loosened tie, he reminded her so much of Nate. She swallowed, immediately recognizing him as one of the boys from Chuck's lunch table.

"Excuse me?"

"Wickham was vying for her love as well," the boy clarified. "It was Elizabeth who never gave him a proper chance. It would have been an entirely different story otherwise."

"Oh," Blair whispered, rather dumbly. He left it at that until class finally ended, hovering as a few students trickling out of the room. He hitched his bag over his shoulder, but remained at his seat, waiting for her to gather her books.

"I'm Ethan," he said, hand reaching out to shake hers. Blair took it, fully aware that Chuck was watching from across the room.

"Blair."

"I already knew that."

"Of course you do," she said, glancing at Chuck again. He lingered by a few of their classmates, engaging in mindless small talk as he eavesdropped on her conversation with Ethan.

Interesting.

"What's with you and Bass, anyway?" Ethan asked, dropping his tone to a murmur. Blair looked up at him in surprise.

"_Nothing_," Blair hissed. "And he's your friend. Shouldn't you know?"

Ethan smiled. "Chuck and I are acquaintances. We run in the same circles, I'm sure you know how that is."

Blair cocked an eyebrow knowingly. "Right. A Victor, aren't you?"

"So you've heard the rumors," Ethan stated, following her out of class. She shrugged in slight annoyance. Boys like Ethan and Nate were like puppies, there for companionship, _not _conversation.

"It isn't a rumor if it's true," Blair shrugged. And she left him with that, twirling away, heading off to her next class. Ethan stared after her, smirking before he headed down the opposite end of the hall. Chuck watched on with a sneer on his face, yanking Damien from the stream of students milling down the hallway.

"I have a project for you," Chuck said, dropping his arm around the boy's shoulders. Damien perked up with interest, beckoning him to continue. "How do you feel about Jenny Humphrey?"

"She's hot, I guess," Damien shrugged. "A little too innocent for my taste."

"Yeah?" Chuck asked, swiping a hand over his jaw. "Not after you're done with her."

"As much as I revel in a good challenge, I have to ask," Damien began, "does this have anything to do with the new girl? Dude, you're obsessed with her."

"Blair isn't just the _new girl_," Chuck snarled. "No questions. I just need information."

"Right, whatever," Damien shrugged. "I'll take her off your hands for you. Get her out of the way, find out what makes Waldorf tick." Damien shot his fingers at an imaginary target as Chuck smirked.

"Good," he replied. "That's exactly what I need."

:::

_September 18__th__, 2007: The Briar Theatre_

Jenny sewed until her fingers were numb.

She was hidden in the theater's costume department, far from where the auditions were being held on stage. It was _Romeo and Juliet_ this year, which was hardly surprising - Briar had a thing for Shakespeare. The year before had been _Hamlet_ in the spring, _The Twelfth Night_ in the fall. Jenny was happy enough to remain behind the scenes, as no one else bothered to enter the dusty costume room behind all of the glamour.

But today was different.

Jenny startled when she heard footsteps behind her, pricking herself with the needle in her hands. She winced, sticking her finger in her mouth.

"I scared you," murmured a voice. "I'm sorry."

Jenny shook her head, releasing her finger. "It was my own fault. I should've been wearing a thimble."

"It's alright to live on the edge, Blondie," the boy drawled, stepping in front of her. Jenny looked up, choking on her response when she realized that the boy was Damien Dalgaard, of all people. Jenny had always watched him from afar, as they were in the same form, entering Briar at the same time a year ago. His eyes were clever and taunting, but his smile was kind. He was the kind of handsome that was much too dark to be good for you.

A girl like Jenny simply couldn't resist.

"Hi," she whispered, dropping the half-sewn dress into her lap.

"Hey," Damien grinned. He nodded at the fabric in her hands. "Looks good."

"Oh…this?" Jenny stammered. "It's not really – It's not finished." He was clearly amused by her stuttering, and she struggled to a get a hold of herself. "What are you doing back here, anyway?"

"You're looking at your new Romeo," he said, sitting back against one of the old chests. There was something about the way he emphasized _your_ that made Jenny lose her focus, forcing her to blink again.

"But they're just auditioning," Jenny frowned. "You can't know – "

"I'll get the part," Damien grinned. "If only for the honor of being dressed by you."

This time Jenny rolled her eyes, letting out a small laugh. "Yeah, right."

"I mean that," Damien insisted, holding her gaze. "But, I'll leave you to it. Wouldn't want to distract you from your masterpiece." Jenny swallowed as he winked at her, going to turn away. Somehow, she found her voice, found the bit of Blair that had already influenced her.

"You can stay," Jenny said. "If you want."

Damien turned with a small smile, cocking an eyebrow before sitting across from her. "I was hoping you'd say that."

:::

_September 20__th__, 2007: The Guidance Office, The Main Hall_

Per her mother's obnoxious request, Blair was to see the guidance counselor every week for the remainder of her fall term. It was a wonder, really, how Eleanor managed to run her life and schedule for appointments from four hours away. Blair sat outside of the office, awaiting her turn while she examined the tips of her nails. Unfortunately, it was during moments like these that her mind wandered to Chuck Bass. Since they were young, he'd had this obsession with tormenting her, like he wouldn't give up until he clawed right into her mind and she became another one of those girls, swooning at his name.

Ridiculous.

It was then that the door to the guidance office burst open, a boy barreling through it. Blair startled, realizing that it was Chuck himself. His brows were slanted, his expression furious. She watched as the door slammed shut behind him, and he cursed under his breath.

"Wow," Blair said lightly. "You really are following me." His eyes snapped to her, realizing that she was sitting in front of him.

"You _wish_," Chuck scoffed before heading down the hall.

Blair frowned, infuriated by his dismissal. And then she was getting up from her seat, chasing after him, forgetting all about her appointment. There was something about the way he pushed that made her pull, and then vice versa. She sped down the main halls, waving to a few of the other students on her way. She watched as Chuck ducked into a side passageway, in between the main building and the boy's dormitories. She took a breath before walking in behind him.

"Bass, what are you – "

"Now who's following who?" Chuck sneered.

Blair pursed her lips. "I only wanted to see if you were alright. But if you're going to be an _ass _about it – "

She realized how close they were now, in the damp and dark corner of the alley. She tensed as he stepped towards her, his hands pushing against the wall on either side of her head. Blair closed her eyes as they shared a breath, unable to look at the unrepentant anger on his face. He waited a moment before reaching out to tangle his fingers in her hair, cradling her head before slamming her back against the wall. Blair let out a small whimper as he caught her mouth with his, bowing her to him until every inch of her was touching him. He forced his anger onto her lips, a choked groan surfacing from the back of his throat.

"What are you doing?" Blair panted, jerking her head away.

"I – " Chuck blinked, looking lost for a moment, his hands falling from her hair.

"You kissed me," Blair said. She swept her tongue out over her lips, and Chuck watched. "You taste like vodka."

Chuck backed away from her then, shoving off of the wall. She remained where she was as he swiped a hand over his face, letting out an exasperated sigh. He looked at her one more time before heading down the hall without another word. Blair sank back against the wall, tilting her head back. She recalled Eric's words for a moment, watching Chuck disappear around the corner.

_Chuck Bass? A ticking time bomb._

And she was going to set him off.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thank you all for the kind and thoughtful reviews. They were all really exciting, and I hope you continue to let me know what you think! I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. I edited it about ten times before I finally posted, so I hope you guys enjoy! Next up will be Chapter Three: _The Art of War_.


	3. The Art of War

**Chapter Three: The Art of War**

_I know, she knows that I'm not fond of asking._

_True or false, it may be...Well, she's still out to get me._

_And I know, she knows that I'm not fond of asking._

_True or false, it may be...She's still out to get me. _

**– Naïve by The Kooks.**

:::

_August 18__th__, 2006: The Palace_

"Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak."

Chuck Bass was sixteen years old when he first felt his heartbeat.

It wasn't as if he had converted to romanticism or anything. Long before, he'd made the conscious decision to break his own heart, numb it down, force himself to feel nothing and do _everything_ without regret. He'd done just that the first time Bart looked into his eyes and saw something else, something from before. Chuck knew that he looked like his late mother, Evelyn Bass – dead at childbirth – but it had been clear then, reflected in Bart's black eyes staring down at him as other fathers lifted their children onto their shoulders, whispered encouragements in their ears.

_Evelyn Bass, dead at childbirth._

Bart Bass, capable of nothing more than hating his only son.

It was this that Chuck thought about as he blinked up at the ceiling above him, nothing blurring into a symphony of hallucinations.

It was the eve of his departure to The Briar House at the end of their sophomore year, and he threw the biggest bash his classmates had ever attended. He'd guilted the almighty Bart into renting out a floor of rooms for his guests, which came along with a stream of drinks and hot tubs filled with champagne and drunken hook ups that no one, not even Gossip Girl, would care for in the morning. He could remember most of the night in flashes – fuzzy, dream-like reels. Blair had been on the cusp of being Nate's girlfriend that summer, but the pull of resistance on his part was pathetically obvious, with those stolen glances he still wasted on her blonde best friend.

Chuck had seen Nate do just that during the party, holding Blair's waist while digging his face into Serena's neck. No one had been drunk, not drunk _enough _to brush it off as a sloppy mishap.

Chuck had seen enough.

He was done.

And there he was, escaping his own party to reflect on his own misery – the sadness that he _swore _he was immune to. Chuck was wallowing in it when the light flickered on, illuminating the room.

"This room is occupied," Chuck drawled, his voice toneless, his eyes still trained on the ceiling. Upon hearing more footsteps, he sighed, rolling his head to one side. "Didn't I just say – " It was then that he realized who he was speaking to, and he straightened, eyes widening. "Oh, Waldorf."

"Chuck," Blair murmured. "Why are you hiding out in here?" She glanced around, taking another cautious step. "Don't tell me that you've given up your debauchery in time for the celebration."

"Celebration," he repeated, the word rolling off his tongue. "I suppose it is, for most. I'm sure that you'll be glad to see me gone."

"I wouldn't – " Blair stopped herself. "I'm indifferent." Chuck looked at her again, realizing that he wasn't the only one reflecting. Her façade of perfection was cracking now, noticeable only to those who could recognize it in themselves.

Chuck noticed.

Blair's hand traced her stomach idly, fingers feeling what wasn't there. Emptiness collided with torment in her eyes and her smile faltered like happiness didn't belong to her. And when he looked at Blair again, Chuck saw himself.

"Are you…okay?" Blair asked, snapping him out of his reverie.

"I knew that one day I'd push Bart too far," Chuck finally said, fists curling. "Sometimes, the game ends and you realize how high the stakes were all along." Blair frowned, trying to make sense of the words. Her feet carried her over to the chaise, and she dropped down beside him. He was aware of the hem of her dress, how it bunched up around her thighs, but he kept his eyes up and on hers.

"Maybe if you spoke to him – "

"There's no negotiating exile," Chuck rasped, looking away. "It's over."

"I'm sorry," Blair admitted, clearing her throat. She wasn't used to speaking so formally, not with Chuck. "I never realized that you wanted to stay. I just thought - "

"Of course you didn't," Chuck scoffed. "Why would you? I'm just a guest star in all of your lives. The love saga of Nate, Serena, and Blair."

"It's not like that."

"It's always been like that," Chuck scoffed. "Playing the court jester has proven tiresome. I'm bowing out."

"You're wrong," Blair insisted. Something shifted in her eyes, like maybe _she _couldn't find her role in the aforementioned love saga either. She swallowed, parting her lips but saying nothing. He wasn't surprised when she pulled herself up, ready to leave the room. He watched her as she walked away, as she stopped at the doorway without turning around.

"You're wrong," Blair repeated, in a voice so low that he might have imagined it. "You'll be missed." She laughed under her breath, her head shaking, curls falling over her shoulder blades. "If only for the lack of entertainment." Chuck choked on his breath as she vanished, wondering if he'd imagined the whole thing. He blinked again and again, hand tracing over the indent of where she'd just been sitting.

Chuck Bass was sixteen years old when he first felt his heartbeat, and it was Blair Waldorf who forced it out of him.

He'd never forgive her for it.

But he would never forget her either.

:::

_September 21__st__, 2007: Dexter Hall Dormitories_

"The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting."

Blair, as always, was perfectly coordinated.

Having a uniform had never fazed her at Constance, and it wouldn't at Briar. She rolled black lace up her legs, threw on a dark blazer over button-down, and stepped into her short black Manolos. Her hair was in a twist at the nape of her neck, loose ringlets falling around her face. She rubbed a reddish gloss onto her lips as Jenny stood beside her in the mirror, opting for a pink shade. They shared a small bathroom, adjoined to their bedroom. Blair would never admit it – she'd rather _die_ – but she'd grown quite fond of having Jenny around. The blonde was a subdued Serena, saying all of the right things, while recognizing that her place was a step behind Blair.

Blair cringed when she realized that Jenny was evolving from a pity project into a – _God_ – a friend.

Together, they walked out into the hall, where the other girls were chattering and rushing off to class. Blair was in the middle of going on about the Homecoming Ball that Briar would be holding that Friday evening, when they were stopped short by Chuck Bass, sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the sea of girls. Blair tensed immediately, gripping Jenny's elbow for a second of support. She instantly thought of the way he'd kissed her in the alley, a selfish kiss, like he wanted force whatever haunted him right into her. Blair shuddered as if the action was actually possible.

She already had demons of her own.

Blair released Jenny's arm, bracing herself before walking over to Chuck. Any hint of the boy who'd kissed her was gone, replaced by his typical cocky demeanor, as if he owned every inch of ground he stepped foot on. _Ugh_.

"I see that your man-whoring heightens with every passing day," Blair sighed, regarding him with a cautious stare. "Let me guess…doing the walk of shame?"

Chuck grinned, and she hated it. He was too similar to her to be a proper opponent. He absorbed her insults and played off of them, fueled by her annoyance. But when he spoke, his tone was gentler than ever before. "I was waiting for you, actually."

Blair narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

"I'm walking you to class."

"I'm not an _animal_," Blair hissed. "I don't need to be walked. You might want to try Penelope for that."

Of course, Chuck found this entirely amusing. "I beg your pardon, Miss Waldorf," he mocked her in an airy accent. "Let me escort you to class." Beside Blair, Jenny stifled a smile. She glanced between the two before stepping up.

"Right, so…I'll see you at lunch, Blair," Jenny said. "My class is that way." Jenny pointed to the other end of the hall, and Blair's eyes widened in panic. Before Blair could force her into chaperoning her exposure to Chuck, the blonde darted down the hall.

_Traitor._

It was Chuck who called after her, yelling Jenny's name before she could turn the corner. "Damien wanted you to know that he sends his regards, Little J." Chuck said it with a wink, and Jenny's reaction was that of a starry-eyed crush, swaying on her feet as she jerked her head into an eager nod. There was a bounce in her step as she left for class, leaving Chuck and Blair alone with a few other morning stragglers in the hall.

"You kissed me."

"I kissed you," Chuck mirrored, awaiting her reaction.

"Are you going to _explain _or – "

"I kissed you," he repeated. "And I'm not sorry."

Blair waited for him to go on, but she could tell that it was all he was going to give away. Finally, she crossed her arms over her chest with an indignant sigh. "You're not even supposed to be in Dexter Hall," Blair huffed. "I should report you."

"And risk my suspension?" He chuckled, gesturing for her to follow him down the hall. "What would you do without me?"

"Find inner peace, attend class without being stalked in the process, talk without being interrupt – "

"It was a hypothetical question," Chuck said, rolling his eyes. Together, they ducked into the bridge that connected Dexter to the Main Hall. They were early for English when they arrived, accompanied in their wait by one other tiny sophomore who was taking it as an AP class. Blair watched as Chuck leaned back against the wall, shoving a hand in his pocket. She clutched her books to her chest, waiting for him to explain himself.

"So, what is this, Bass?" she finally asked, treading cautiously, gesturing to the space between them. "Is it that you…like me?"

Chuck's eyes widened, and Blair was pleased by his momentary panic. It was a new thing she was trying, being more brazen with her words, aiming to shock. The Upper East Side was slackening its grip around her throat with every passing day. She watched as his mind raced, his jaw clenching in defense.

"Define like." It was a simple command, but it was enough to fill Blair with a rush of glee.

"You have a crush on me," Blair marveled, a little laugh under her breath. "And you've come to try and satiate it."

"I'm not - "

"Is it seeing something you can't have?" She persisted, braving a step towards him. He quirked a brow, clearly surprised by her analysis of the situation. But before Chuck correct her, before he could clarify that he could very well make her his if he were to strategize the right way, she went on. "It's all one big challenge for you, isn't it?" She sounded truly curious, her voice dropping low in the silent hall. Chuck thought for a moment before responding, considering the answer to her question.

He thought better of it.

"What's this that you're always reading?" Chuck asked, tapping the leather bound novel at the top of her pile. Blair frowned at the change in subject, glancing down at the book. "You always were a little nerd."

"Your insults aren't even slightly endearing."

"The book, Blair," he insisted. "Enlighten me."

Blair sighed, revealing the first yellowed page to him. "If you must know, it's T_he_ _Art of War _by Sun Tzu."

Chuck didn't miss a beat, a wide grin spreading on his lips. "Of course it is."

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It's an ancient text on war," Chuck smirked. "I just expected it to be – "

"What? Some moronic teen drama from the likes of Stephanie Meyer or Cecily von Ziegesar?" Blair rolled her eyes, tapping the cover of the book. "It's a necessity. _You _of all people should know that high school might as well be a battleground."

"And what an adorable little dictator you are," Chuck mused.

Blair frowned at him, irritated by his taunting. "Don't patronize me, Bass." Finally, she let out a small sigh, allowing a tiny confession to slip. "My grandmother, Cornelia, gave it to me when I was younger, before she passed away. It's a special edition. Only two were made in the year it was printed, and _this_ – " She traced her fingers over some sort of scrawled message inside the cover. " – is one of them."

A strange look crossed Chuck's face then, his eyes widening in recognition. "Really? I – "

Chuck was cut off by a sharp pound on his back, and he resisted cursing at the intruder. Ethan Merrick was sauntering over to them with a sloppy grin on his face. Chuck blanched when Blair shifted away from Chuck, returning the boy's smile.

"Bass," Ethan called. His voice dropped when he turned to Blair. "And Blair. Just the girl I wanted to see."

"Oh?" Blair replied. The eye roll that Chuck shot her did not go unmissed.

"I wanted to thank you for editing my first paper the other night," Ethan grinned. "I don't know how I'm going to survive all of this Austen stuff."

Blair shrugged one shoulder and smiled, a small dimple forming on her cheek.

"Austen _stuff_," Chuck murmured under his breath, so that only Blair could hear. "How intelligent."

"Anyway," Ethan continued, keeping his eyes on Blair. "I'll see you guys inside, and I'll save you – " He nudged Blair's arm, much to Chuck's dismay. " – a seat."

Blair could barely manage a slight nod before Chuck grabbed her elbow, spinning her to face him. "You're a tutor now? Do tell me how I can get in on your services." Blair pried her hand away, furiously flicking her hair back.

"Don't be a perv," she sniffed. "You sound like a jealous boyfriend."

"You wish," Chuck retorted, watching her turn away from him.

Blair paused, casting him an amused glance over her shoulder. "No. _You _do."

Chuck shook his head, raking a hand through his hair as he watched her go. He waited until Blair had safely disappeared into the flock of students going into class before pulling his own book from the messenger bag at his side. He stared down at the brown leather cover, _The Art of War _glinting up at him in silver script. He recalled Blair's airy tone as she described her copy of the special edition.

How only one other person held its twin.

The two books matched, much like their owners did – different from the rest of the world, but burning just the same.

_Two of a kind._

:::

"To know your Enemy, you must become your Enemy."

They say that the most ruthless wars are those without clear victors. Power plays are the most intense forms of struggle – and Chuck and Blair seemed to be well-versed in the method. He pushed, and she shoved back, harder and harder until one of them would break.

Outside of the dining hall on the next day, Blair had brushed past Ethan, making small talk about the Chaucer assignment coming up. Chuck watched them, fists clenched, before he pulled a giggling Penelope to his side.

"Penny," he murmured against her neck, eyes blazing as he glared at Blair.

"Chuck," Penelope breathed, sliding an eager hand over his chest. _Too eager_. Which was a good thing, he supposed. She didn't catch the silent stare down that he and Blair were partaking in from across the patio.

"Wear red for me on Friday," he continued, a limp hand on Penelope's hip. Miffed, Blair turned away, finding Eric van der Woodsen and linking her arm through his before heading back to the building. When she was gone, Chuck moved away from Penelope. Sans the excitement of the game, she held no interest to him. He tuned Penelope out as she tried her hand at the coy commandeering that Blair had down pact.

"_Hello_?" Penelope sighed, grabbing hold of his chin. "Are you even listening to me?"

And then there was the Ethan and Blair debacle, which made his blood boil more than he thought humanly possible – and Blair loved it. Ethan asked her to the ball on Wednesday, and she waited a day (game or no game, she had a reputation to uphold) to happily accept.

It was quite unfortunate for Chuck that she wouldn't shut up about it.

And it was quite fortunate for Blair that he wouldn't stop listening.

:::

_September 24__th__, 2007: Dexter Hall Dormitories_

"In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity"

Of course, the battle between Chuck and Blair wasn't the only one waging. Although Blair could hardly call her stint with Penelope a war, it was still _there_. Penelope was not a serious opponent, but she had the advantage of familiarity. People seemed to be _used _to her. The Haywards owned some hall in the rec center, and she lagged on to Chuck, feeding off of his popularity like a tick. Blair briefly wondered exactly what the girl's role was in their little secret society.

Blair sighed, trying to shake her curiosity. Beside her, Jenny took a sip from a bottle of lemonade, tilting her head back as the sunlight dwindled above them. They were sitting in the Bogart Gardens, atop one of the steel benches surrounding the brass statue of Apollo in front of them. They'd escaped in the middle of dinner to find the usual make-out spot desolate – if only for a moment.

"Blair, Jenny!" a voice called from behind them. The girls whipped around to see Diana St. Jean, Penelope's strayed follower, walking over to them.

"Diana," Blair started, briefly glancing up in search of Penelope – but Diana was alone. "What is it?"

"I want in," Diana said, sitting across from Blair on the bench.

"In?" Blair repeated. "In with what?"

"With you," Diana explained, tying her hair into a knot at the back of her head. "Penelope has been a pain in my ass since I got here, and the way you stood up to her – " Diana smiled appraisingly. "It's time for a _real _queen to rule Briar. And I'd like to be by her side when she assumes the throne."

"Oh?" Blair grinned. "And your loyalty to Penelope?"

"_Loyalty_?" Diana snorted. "I've been putting sour cream in her shampoo every month for two years. Popularity came with the price of suffering in silence." Diana shook her head. "But not anymore."

Blair glanced at Jenny, whose excitement was plastered all over her cheeky features. Blair drew in a breath, pretending to contemplate it for a moment, examining her nails for nonexistent flaws.

"Fine," Blair smiled. "You're in."

Diana grinned, clapping her hands together. There was something about her that thrilled Blair. She had a catty look, but she was easy to get along with. She watched as Diana pulled something from her purse, a silky orange headband that popped against her raven locks.

"I'm in."

They were all quiet for a moment, excited by the turn of events. It was the start of Blair's rise, of new friendships, of _possibility_. Blair had two long years left here, and she would make them count. She reveled in it until Diana spoke again, lips curling as she leaned towards Blair.

"So are we going to talk dresses for the ball tomorrow, or what?"

:::

_September 24__th__, 2007: The Main Hall_

"The greatest victory is that which requires no battle."

Jenny gasped when a hand darted out to grasp her wrist as she was heading back to the dorms for the night, pulling her into a tiny dark closet. She trembled as the door shut behind her, warm hands sliding to her cheeks.

"It's okay, Blondie," Damien whispered. "It's just me."

"Oh my God," Jenny whispered, allowing herself to fall against him. "You scared me. I – " He swallowed her words with a light kiss, a steady hand on the nape of her neck. Jenny's eyes widened in the darkness, still unsettled by how quickly Damien had claimed her as his. After their encounter at the theater on the prior week, he had pursued her in earnest, waiting for her after every class, pulling her into abandoned corridors in search of stolen kisses.

_He had been her first kiss._

Jenny probably should have known better - at least from her reluctant older brother's warnings and her father's infinite "talks." The whole reason she was _here _was to escape the Upper East Side venom that forced her to crave approval and abandon her innocence. But there was something about Damien that numbed her senses, intoxicated her being. All of the gallant gestures and secretive trysts were reminiscent of the Harlequin novels that she'd read when she was much too young to dream of those things. Damien was too dark, too much, _all of the time_.

Jenny wanted to bottle it up and feel it forever.

Damien's lips dropped down to her neck, and his hand rose to the underside of her breast, hidden by her thin camisole. Jenny squirmed away, feeling blood rise to her cheeks.

"Right, I'm sorry," Damien shrugged, holding her at an arm's length.

"_I'm _sorry," Jenny insisted, feeling a wave of panic wash over her. "It's just that I've never – I haven't _ever, _um – " He nodded, nonchalant, and she watched as he pulled a tiny plastic baggie from his pocket. It bore two white tablets, and Damien swallowed them down as if they were candy.

Damien glanced up, watching her as she took it in.

"You really are innocent, aren't you?"

Jenny blinked. "What?"

He shook his head, pressing his palm to the wall behind her. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I – " Damien shook his head again. Jenny paused for a moment before she pulled a small white clasp from her pocket. She slid it into Damien's hand, and he frowned down at it in confusion.

"What's this?"

"The clasp on your watch is loose," Jenny explained, tapping the black Baume & Mercier around his wrist. "So I looked around the costume department until I found this. I thought I could fix it for you."

"Oh," Damien replied, taking the clasp from her. "Thanks."

Jenny shrugged. "Sure."

"My father – He gave it to me before he went…" Damien circled his finger in the air beside his ear, mouthing _loco._ "And started dealing."

"Oh," Jenny murmured, glancing at the ground. Damien was clutching the clasp tightly now, his eyes searching her face in the darkness. She suddenly felt embarrassed by the gesture, like a child who'd touched something she shouldn't have.

"Do you ever do the right things," Damien began, narrowing his eyes, "for the wrong reasons?"

Jenny frowned. "I don't know what you mean."

Damien smiled at her, the warmest expression she'd seen on his face yet. "You don't have to." He nudged her arm, slipping his hand into hers. "Let me take you to the ball tomorrow."

Jenny's face brightened. "I didn't think you were going to ask me."

Damien smirked at her, sliding an arm around Jenny's waist. "You're not the only one."

:::

_September 25__th__, 2007: The Briar Ballroom_

"All warfare is based on deception."

The Homecoming Ball made Blair nostalgic.

It was inevitable feeling, dropping upon her as Ethan led her through the sea of elegant dresses, slightly tipsy chaperones, and hushed conversations. Blair felt a glow on her cheeks as Ethan admired her violet dress, the way it pulled tight at the bodice and swished around her legs. She had to admit that he looked dashing at her side, wearing a nicer tux than most of the other boys in the room.

On either side of them were Jenny and Diana, with their respective dates. Diana had come with Harrison Callahan, another one of the Victors. The girl wore black on a suave, low-cut shift. Blair turned to Jenny, clad in a rosy gown with a sweetheart neckline. Damien was whispering something in her ear as they walked in, and Blair narrowed her eyes in suspicion. He was a miniature Bass – which could only mean trouble for a mousy little thing like Jenny.

"You look beautiful," Ethan murmured. "Every other guy here is jealous."

Blair smirked. _Of course they were_. But as he said it, she caught Chuck's eye from across the marble floor. He was on one of the lounge chaises with Penelope, sipping from a glass of punch – _spiked_, she was sure – as he stared at Blair.

Penelope wore red. Chuck wore a violet bowtie that matched Blair's dress exactly.

Blair was under his watch for the remainder of the ball, taking extra delight in it as she threw her head back, laughing at Ethan's jokes, smiling as she whispered to Diana and Jenny.

The entire room was aware of them, gravitating around their little circle.

It was when Ethan wrapped his arms around her for the third time that night that she felt a hand on her shoulder, and Ethan frowned before drawing away. Blair turned to see Chuck standing before her, mischief tainting his wounded eyes.

"What do _you _want?" Blair sniffed, pursing her lips.

"A dance," he replied. Chuck glanced at Ethan. "Can you spare her for a moment, Merrick?"

"Uh, if Blair wants to," Ethan shrugged. "I guess."

Blair sighed in faux annoyance. "I suppose it would be rude to decline." And then she was in Chuck's arms, stopping herself from moaning at the mere presence of him. _What was wrong with her?_

"You look ravishing."

"You look like the devil."

"How's your date?"

"How's _yours_?" Blair retorted. "Has Penelope swallowed you whole yet?"

Chuck rolled his eyes, fingers spreading at her lower back, grazing her bottom. Blair jumped, but he went unfazed. "Nobody swallows me whole. But I'd love to see you try."

"In your dreams, Bass."

"Yes," he agreed, quirking his brow. "In quite a few of them, actually."

Blair let a smile loose. "Well, I – "

"What the _hell _is this?" They both turned to see Penelope seething behind them, her eyes blazing as she took in the sight before her. "You come to _my _ball, with _my _friend, and then you whisk away with my – "

"Your what?" Chuck sighed, interrupting her. "I'm not your boyfriend. I can dance with whomever I please. " He swiped a hand over his jaw with clear impatience. "Nobody appreciates your tantrums. Give it a rest." But Penelope ignored him, setting her eyes on Blair, stepping towards her. They'd gathered the attention of the entire room, everyone hushing to listen in to their conversation, just as they had on that first day in the dining hall.

"Who do you think you are?" Penelope continued. "You get exiled from the Upper East Side, and you think you can pick up here? You had your chance, and you blew it."

Blair shook her head. "You have no idea what you're talking about. So I suggest you shut up before you make an even bigger fool out of yourself."

"Fool?" Penelope scoffed, her eyes wild. "You're the fool, Blair, if you thought that your secrets died when you left Manhattan. I'm very fond of doing research, you know. Sleuthing is in my nature."

Blair faltered. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Penelope hissed. "Your queenhood, your title - it's such a joke. You think that you're so much better than the rest of us - that you're so _perfect_." Penelope paused, smiling. "Why don't you tell everyone about your urge to purge?"

"That's enough," Blair murmured, taking a step back. Chuck reached out for her, but she pulled away, glancing around at the whispering crowd.

"Is that why you're boyfriend dumped you, B?" Penelope taunted unrelentingly. "I wouldn't be surprised. It's a disgusting little habit you have."

Blair shook her head, gripping her stomach, turning for the exit. Jenny called out to her, and maybe Diana did too. But all she could focus on were the two doors that would allow her escape.

And then she was gone.

:::

_September 25__th__, 2007: The Kitchen_

"Even the finest sword plunged into salt water will eventually rust."

Chuck found her in the kitchen.

It was the last – and most ironic – place he'd expected to catch her after the little spectacle in the ballroom. Everyone had turned to Ethan to find Blair after she'd run from it all. Something twisted in Chuck then, the idea of Merrick comforting her making him sick.

And so there he was, staring at Blair as she stared down at the assortment of leftover desserts on the kitchen's metal tables, abandoned from the party outside. He closed the door behind them, clicking it shut, and it startled her. Chuck tensed when Blair turned to face him in her surprise. Her hands were outstretched, glazed cherry and smashed pie crust dripping from her clenched fists. Her flawless lips were stained red from the pie filling, the glaze smeared at the corners of her mouth, falling to her chin. Blair was shaking, _petrified_, as a lone tear rolled down one ruddy cheek.

"Blair," Chuck breathed, stepping over to her. He grasped her arms, squeezing until her fists unclenched and the dessert splattered to the floor.

"_Don't_." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Chuck scraped the smears from the skin like a madman, desperate the clean her, desperate to help her. Blair was trembling as he wiped at her, ruining the sleeves of his suit.

"Stop it."

"No."

"_Stop_."

"You stop." Chuck grasped her chin, jutting her face up. "Why did they send you here, Blair? What did you do?"

"That's none of your business," Blair spat, yanking her arms away when he pulled her closer, fighting him when he gripped her shoulders. Her stomach churned, and she could already feel the food forcing its way up again. She clawed at her own throat, desperate to shake Chuck away, but he just wouldn't _go_.

"It's everyone's business now," Chuck said, a sharp twist in his voice. He held one wrist, keeping her in place. Blair let out an empty sob, falling to her knees in front of him. She hunched over, tears dotting her dress when she dropped her head. Chuck took the sight in for a moment, releasing her when he was sure she wouldn't go.

Blair was so beautiful, even when she was broken like this, raw and bare and _real_.

Even _more_ so like this.

He didn't hesitate before dropping down beside her.

"Bass, just," Blair let out a shaky breath. "Just leave me alone."

"No."

"_Please_."

"You're not going to do it," Chuck said. "I'm not going to let you do it." It was then that she finally looked at him, Blair's eyes nearly going black when she tilted her chin up, defeated.

"You don't understand," Blair murmured.

Chuck reached out for her, shoving a hand through her hair, tangling his fingers in the mess of waves. His fingers curled at the back of her head, yanking her closer. "Then make me understand." And then he was kissing her, a kiss that dragged him into an oblivion that only ever came from intoxication. He breathed out through his nose, and she breathed him in. He pulled her hair harder, pushing and pushing until his hand hit the floor, he pinned her to the ground, and she stared up at him with lost eyes.

"How?"

Chuck fell between her legs, her ruined dress bunching up around her waist. "Use me."

And so she did.

Blair was barely aware of herself as Chuck rubbed himself against her, saying it again and again as he thrust his hips forward, the zipper of his pants scraping her panties. _Use me, use me, use me._ Blair clawed at his suit jacket, back arching from the ground almost painfully.

"Why?" Blair gasped, tilting her head back in search of air. But it only made him assault her neck, teeth scraping up a violent cacophony across the skin there. She was aware of the wetness pooling between her thighs, under her La Perlas, his hips so close to hers that she swore they were fused together.

"I'm finishing what we started," Chuck rasped in her ear, sliding a hand down to the top of her thigh, hitching her leg up, spreading her wider, grinding and rolling and then doing it again. Blair gasped, nearly going blind for a moment. "Use this, Blair."

"Oh _God_."

"Use this and – _fuck _– forget everything else." And then she was seizing in his arms as his fist hit the floor beside her head. Blair shook, never having experienced an orgasm – not like this, not _ever _before – and Chuck was shutting his eyes against the excruciating haze of pleasure. Her mouth went dry, and she might have screamed, but she didn't know.

Blair used it.

And she didn't know anything else.

And then she came down like the dip of a coaster, and another tear fell from the corner of her eye because it was all so wonderful and terrible and horribly wrong. She didn't know if the dampness she felt was hers or Chuck's, and it was frighteningly exciting.

Chuck let out a breath, rolling away from her and settling on the cold floor. She stared up at the ceiling, ignoring the embarrassing stain on his pants, focusing only on the symphony their pants induced in the air around them. His vision went black, his head a haze of delirium. He could barely make out her voice, speaking to him, saying _something._

_"This never happened. It never happened. You and I, Bass, we never did this."_

It was possible that he nodded, just to please her.

And when he rolled his head over to look at her, she was gone.

:::

_September 25__th__, 2007: Dexter Hall Dormitories_

"But a kingdom that has once been destroyed can never come again into being; nor can the dead ever be brought back to life."

That night, Blair laid in bed with wet hair, stained cheeks, and a stomach that was still torturously full. She kept her eyes open, staring into the darkness, forcing head to be empty, to be rid of Penelope's words, the crowd's whispers, Chuck's touch. It was then that she heard footsteps, although the light remained off.

"Blair," Jenny whispered, sitting at the foot of Blair's bed.

"What?" Her voice was colder than she intended, but she couldn't bring herself to retract the word.

"I'm here, too," Diana coughed, sitting beside Jenny.

"Oh."

"You don't have to explain yourself," Diana continued. "Friends don't judge."

"Friends," Blair repeated, her voice toneless. Diana slid her hand over, finding Blair's leg through her duvet. She squeezed once, offering Blair a genuine grin. Blair turned the word over in her head, measuring it. Thinking about it now, she realized that she'd never had a friend, not really. Serena had been her competitor, Kati and Isobel had practically been her servants, and it wasn't as if feeding the ducks with Dorota every Sunday constituted a lifelong friendship.

"Hey," Jenny chimed in. "Did you know that Diana's never seen an Audrey movie?" This caught Blair's attention. She stirred in bed, her expression incredulous as she sat up. Diana and Jenny held their breath for a moment, waiting for orders to be given. Finally, Blair let out a breath, regaining her composure.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Blair snapped. "Jenny, get _Roman Holiday_."

* * *

**All quotes in this chapter were taken from ****_The Art of War _****by Sun Tzu.**

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hello lovelies! I hadn't even planned on updating until next week, but I went mad with this chapter. I seriously couldn't stop writing. Your reviews have been completely awesome - especially those long ones that I swoon over - so please do keep them coming. I'm so glad to see that you guys are all enjoying this story. I must warn you that it will be a little (or long while) before my next update. I'm drowning in work, so I'll try my best to have it done by next weekend (at least).


	4. In Secrets Kept, In Silence Sealed

**Chapter Four: In Secrets Kept, In Silence Sealed**

_Trying to tell you no, but my body keeps on telling you yes._

_ Trying to tell you stop, but your lipstick has me so out of breath._

_I'd be waking up, in the morning probably hating myself._

_And I'd be waking up feeling satisfied but guilty as hell._

**_–_**** One More Night by Maroon 5.**

:::

_September 26__th__, 2007: Dexter Hall Dormitories & Wentworth Hall Dormitories_

On either side of The Briar House campus, Chuck and Blair sat up in bed, gasping for breath at 8:05 in the morning with aches in their heads and hangovers that had absolutely nothing to do with alcohol. Chuck still had the taste of stale cherry pie on his tongue, and Blair's skin quaked at the places it had been touched on the previous night. She reached up to touch the bruise on her neck, wincing when it stung. Chuck traced the scratch at the curve of his shoulder with one finger, shaking his head in disbelief.

Blair glanced down, touching her sore thighs, checking herself for bruises there too. It was sinful, this feeling – guilt scolding her satisfaction, fear clouding her pleasure. She wanted nothing more than to dismiss the previous night, the previous _month _as a horrid nightmare, to wake up to a text message from Nate and the smell of fresh scones in the Waldorf kitchen.

No, that was a lie.

She wanted nothing more than Chuck's hands, Chuck's lips, bringing her to the brink, pushing her over the cliff of moral expectations and into the sea of release below.

_"Use me." His hands reached down and used her hips as an anchor as he ground against her, feeling him right between her thighs, rocking her into a pleasure too intense to bear._

_"I can't."_

_"You will." His hips rocked faster, his hand unraveling the hairdo she'd spent hours on, pleasure disguised as pain, and everything in between. "Come for me, Blair. Come for me now."_

"No!" Blair gasped, hiding herself under her comforter and shutting her eyes against the memory. It was Saturday, and she had no interest in taking inventory of the damage done by yesterday's battle. Surely a fallen queen could afford a day of rest to gather her bearings. Blair relaxed atop her sheets, lulling herself to sleep, hoping for escape.

But instead, she was haunted by the past.

:::

_June 1__st__, 2007: The Sheperds' Wedding_

Blair Waldorf's life seemed to be a steady stream of screwed up scenarios and alternate endings to the cracked film reel of her life.

Had her insolent SAT tutor been available for her their weekly appointment, Blair wouldn't have graced the Sheperds with her presence at their wedding in the summer of 2007. Had Nate known that Blair was going to make an appearance, he would have steered clear of a certain seductive blonde that night. Had Chuck Bass not been sent to boarding school the previous summer, _he _would have been the one to seek out Blair's boyfriend and best friend, opting to record their indiscretion for his own sordid pleasure rather than spilling the beans. Had Blair worn her blue Balenciaga rather than her orange Nanette Lepore, she would not have had a wardrobe malfunction that needed to be fixed in the empty barroom.

Had everything been different, had a wicked wind not swept through the Upper East Side on that first day of summer, Blair would have never walked right into disaster.

"Oh my God," Blair hissed, unable to pry her eyes away from her best friend and boyfriend, half-naked and entangled on one of the rickety barstools. She backed away as they scrambled to make themselves decent.

"B," Serena whispered. "You have to hear me out. I'm so sorry. This was all a mistake."

"Sorry? For what?" Blair spat. "For being a drunken whore? You're disgusting." She blinked back an oncoming pool of tears as she glanced at Nate. "And you."

"Blair, please – "

"Both of you," Blair said, her voice colder than she'd ever heard it. "Both of you are dead to me." Blair dragged the scraps of her dignity from the floor, fleeing the room and pushing back into the main ballroom, where the bride and groom were sharing their first dance. She felt sick as she heard the pitter patter of Nate and Serena chasing after her. Something took over her, something twisted and exasperated. Her head spun when Serena grabbed her arm.

"Blair, just hear us out."

"It wasn't enough for you, was it?" Blair cried, gaining the attention of a few of the wedding guests. But once she started, she couldn't stop, couldn't compose herself. "It's never enough. You had to go and tell my mother about my problem without so much as speaking to me first. You had to push me down until I stayed in your shadow." Blair shook her head, recalling Serena's guilt after she'd confessed Blair's eating disorder to Eleanor. It had taken all of Blair's false sincerity to forgive her for that. But this – this was too much. "And you just had to have Nate too."

"No – "

"You take _everything _from me."

"Blair, you have to calm down." It was Nate pleading with her now, and it infuriated her even more. Even now, he was standing beside Serena, his body gravitating to her as if she were the center of the fucking universe.

But contrary to popular belief, what happened next was an accident. Blair had only meant to slap Serena's grip on her away, maybe throwing in a pinch in the process. How was she supposed to know that the Sheperds' seven-tier cake would roll in _just _as Serena tripped over Blair's foot?

"Oh my God," Blair murmured as all eyes turned to her in horror. Nate and the catering staff scrambled to help Serena, who was now drenched in vanilla cake. The blonde swiped frosting from her face as Blair backed away from the scene of the crime. "Oh God, oh God."

_How was that dreadful girl raised?_

_Honestly, I'm so embarrassed for Eleanor. This behavior is unacceptable._

_I always knew she would go crazy._

_It's probably the divorce. Her father ran away with a male model, after all. She's traumatized._

"Blair Cornelia Waldorf," Eleanor hissed, fingers sinking into Blair's elbow. Blair winced as she turned to her mother, swallowing back a small cry. Eleanor's blunt features were absent of any emotion as she dragged her daughter from the crowd. As they fled, everyone stared as if she was some sort of freak show.

"Mother, you have to understand," Blair whispered, following her mother into the grand hallway. "Nate, he was _cheating _on me with Serena. I just – "

"And you felt the need to embarrass me – " Eleanor sniffed, pulling out her cellphone. " – our entire family with your tantrum? Do you know what they'll say about me after this? Those twits – Anne Archibald, Sally Worth – they'll have a field day. You've caused irreparable damage."

"Mom," Blair persisted, her voice cracking. "You have to see what she's doing. She's sabotaging me on purpose. This is what she wants. She's playing _games_."

"The only games being played are by children like you," Eleanor seethed. "I was perfectly fine with supporting you through your disorder – but this…you're more of a hindrance than you're worth."

Blair recoiled from the insult, her hands trembling behind her back. "I'm your daughter."

"Yes, you are," Eleanor confirmed, her voice tight. "And you'll be my daughter at The Briar House."

"_Mother _– "

"You'll leave in August."

It was a downward spiral into tragedy in the months that followed. As others were splayed out in The Hamptons, travelling to five-star vacation spots, Blair was protesting her exile at home, dropping her defiance to beg her mother to stay. She'd even made a feeble attempt at reconciliation, proving to her mother that she could repair her relationships with Nate and Serena – under the guise of staying, of course.

But it was all to no avail.

Come the end of August, Blair's bags were packed, her tuition was paid off, and her train ticket was purchased as a one-way.

:::

_September 26__th__, 2007: The Briar Dining Hall_

Blair was exhausted when she finally made it to the dining hall for a late brunch. There was hardly anyone in the courtyard, and Blair was glad for it. She took a seat near the balcony gates, straightening out the pale pink dress she wore, mussing her hair into a loose bun. She wore little makeup, just a healthy spread of blush on her cheeks and nude gloss on her lips. She glanced down at the book in her hands, _The Canterbury Tales _for English 102, and took a few notes on her iPad.

"Blair Waldorf's rescue team, reporting for duty," Eric called, sidling in next to her. Blair frowned as Diana and Jenny followed him, breaking her concentration.

"No one should be as cheery as you are in the morning," Blair murmured. "It's disturbing."

"There's our girl," Diana smirked. "We're here to serve our queen with gifts."

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"Your Chobani," Jenny chirped, sliding over the plastic container. Blair grinned when she saw that Jenny had already mixed it, drizzling it with fresh fruits, just as she liked. "Your mocha." Diana placed a cup from Briar's Starbucks stand next to the yogurt. "And good news." Eric handed Blair a copy of _The Briar Gazette_, the headline "Hayward Goes Wayward" in bold letters. Blair rolled her eyes at the ridiculous rhyme before skimming the story.

"It turns out that Penelope has an issue with her temper," Eric explained, "And the faculty wasn't too happy about that. She got a demerit for her yelling, and she got shunned from the center table at breakfast. Her minions wouldn't talk to her, and Chuck _dismissed _her."

Blair fought to control her spark of interest, holding her gaze on the book in front of her. "Oh?" She paused, fighting a smile. "He probably got bored and found some other pathetic little groupie to toy with."

"Oh," Jenny murmured, braving a comeback. "Well, he disappeared after the dance. And you didn't come back to the room for _hours_."

Blair's eyes flitted up to the blonde. "Curiosity killed the cat, Little J." A sinister smile curled on her lips. "One can only imagine what it would do to a Humphrey." Jenny startled, retracting her inquiry immediately. But before she could murmur a soft apology, Eric groaned, glancing over her shoulder.

"Speak of the devil and he doth appear," Eric coughed as Chuck sauntered over to their table, a cautious grin on his face. A number of students tried to grab his attention, girls twirling their hair and boys pounding him on the back, but he kept his eyes on Blair – that smug smirk on his face almost broadcasting their secret tryst.

"Bass."

"Waldorf."

"Did you want something?" Blair sighed, scooping up a bit of yogurt.

"Well," Chuck grinned. "Now that you mention it – " He was cut off by Blair's murderous glare. She straightened, casting a glance at Diana, Jenny, and Eric, who were all intent on the exchange unfurling before them. Blair coughed, waving her hand.

"You're all dismissed," Blair said. Eric snapped his fingers in disappointment, Jenny bit her lip in slight glee. It was Diana who Blair called back as she was leaving. "Do you have what we talked about last night?"

Diana cast her a wicked grin before slipping a folder from her Coach bag. She slid it across the table and handed it to Blair. "It's all in there, B." Blair nodded, taking the folder. "Text me – " She glanced at Blair, then smiled at Chuck. " – when you're free, of course."

Blair watched as Chuck skipped the chairs at the other side of the round table to take the one right beside Blair's. "What's this?" He tried to sneak a peek at the folder, but Blair slapped his hand away just in time.

"It's none of your concern," Blair sniffed, tucking the folder into her purse. Chuck licked his lips as she returned to her yogurt, popping a strawberry slice into her mouth. He reached out and stole one from her bowl, letting a bit of the juice dribble to his chin. It was horrifyingly adorable, and Blair forced herself to look away when he licked it off. "Ugh." Blair frowned. "Buy your own food, and quit staring at me. It's vexatious."

Chuck smirked. "Is that your word of the day?"

"No," Blair retorted. "Some people actually have a vocabulary that surpasses _I'm Chuck Bass_." He rolled his eyes at her, taking a grape from the bowl this time.

"How miserable for them."

They sat in silence for a moment before Blair turned to him. "I heard that you gave Penelope the boot this morning."

Chuck sat back. "She was becoming intolerable." He cleared his throat, the smile dropping from his face. "I also reprimanded the staff on kitchen duties last night." He leaned toward her. "They won't be leaving the doors unlocked anymore."

Blair tensed, avoiding his eyes. "Oh."

"Look, I know that last night didn't fit into Waldorf's five-year plan – "

"I don't know what you're talking about," Blair deadpanned, staring straight ahead.

Chuck rolled his eyes. "What a surprise." It was then that he pushed the collar of his polo aside, revealing a small red scratch following the curve of his neck. Blair gasped for a moment, losing her edge.

Chuck cocked a brow. "Any idea how that got there, Waldorf?"

"I don't keep tabs on your whores," Blair scoffed.

"Oh?" Chuck challenged. "But it bears a striking resemblance to that bruise on your neck." He chuckled as Blair scrambled to pull out her compact, breathing out a small sigh of relief when she realized her cover-up was still intact. She frowned up at his content expression.

"You put it there on _purpose_."

"I just love watching you squirm," Chuck drawled. Blair swallowed when his hand found her knee under the table, fingers spreading underneath her thigh. She was wearing knee-highs, and the roughness of his hands electrified her skin. "And there's this thing you do when you're about to climax. It's just like - " Much to her horror, he began to mimic the expression, imitating the way she moaned. "You really do know how to let loose, don't you?"

Blair let out a sharp breath, moving to smack his hand away, but he grasped it just in time, intertwining their fingers atop her lap. "Are you going to continue tormenting me? Or are you going to tell me what you want?"

"While the former sounds so appealing…" Chuck trailed off, his eyes going dark. "I want you."

Blair paused. "Is this your twisted way of asking me out?"

"You shouldn't flatter yourself," Chuck scoffed. "Chuck Bass doesn't do dates – or girlfriends. You should know that."

Blair frowned. "So?"

"So," Chuck murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "You intrigue me, Waldorf. The way you move…the way you think. You might just be as twisted as I am." Blair parted her lips in protest, but Chuck cut her off. "I want to touch you, whenever, wherever, and however I please. Do you understand the pleasure I could bring you – the words I can pry from that sweet tongue? I want to shatter that tortured innocence of yours and taint it with red. I want to bend you until you break, bring you to the brink and drag you down until you don't know where pain ends and pleasure begins. It's what you're capable of. Why settle for a burn when you can set the rest of the world on fire?"

Blair's throat went dry as his lips grew closer to her ear. "And if I told you that's not what I want?"

"Then you lie just as well as I do."

"You think you know me so well, Bass," Blair smirked. "Don't kid yourself. Maybe I'm not lying. Maybe I _don't _want you."

"Maybe," he mused. Chuck laughed, his breath hot on her cheek. "Then why – " He squeezed her fingers through his. " – are you still holding my hand?" Blair yanked her hand away, shoving her chair from the table, a safe distance away from Chuck's. Her cheeks were burning scarlet, and she was more flustered than she ever let herself be.

"I'm the _Queen_," Blair insisted, slamming her hand down on the table. "I don't have time for your lecherous behavior."

If Chuck felt even the slightest sting of rejection, he did not show it. "Your body betrays your words, Blair." He held her gaze. "As do your eyes." She wracked her brain for a response, but came up with none. Once she settled on a glare, she realized that Chuck was no longer looking at her. He rolled his eyes at something over her shoulder and cursed under his breath.

"Ethan," Blair said, fanning her cheeks with a subtle wave. Ethan nodded at Chuck before squeezing Blair's shoulder.

"I looked for you after the ball," Ethan said, cupping her shoulder. "Then I figured you had just gone back to your room, so I just – yeah." Blair resisted an eye roll. Ethan had trouble with finishing his sentences, and it was growing tiresome.

"Oh," Blair replied. "After everything, I was exhausted. I went right back to the dorms." Behind her, Chuck snorted. As Ethan turned to wave at someone across the dining hall, Chuck leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"Good for you, Waldorf," Chuck drawled. "I see that you've found Archibald's clone. Let's hope that the replica doesn't share his taste for blondes."

"That's enough," Blair whispered. "Just go _away_."

Chuck frowned at the dismissal, a spark of rage flitting through him. "As you wish." He passed a hand over her books before getting up from his seat. "My offer won't stand for long."

Blair rolled her eyes, turning back to Ethan. "Good. It'll speed up the process of rejection." But as she watched him walk away, tipping the chin of some other girl as he fled, Blair's stomach flipped. She tried to focus on Ethan's ramblings in earnest, but her mind wandered to Chuck. There was something volatile, something unsettling about the quick shift of his moods, the darkness he found so amusing.

But the way he touched her –

He was right. Chuck set her on fire. A slow, looming burn that was desperate to go aflame.

"Blair? Did you hear me?" Blair glanced up at Ethan, eyes widening. "I asked if you wanted to hit the student lounge."

"Oh," Blair shrugged. "That sounds fine." As she gathered her books, a slip of paper slid out from inside of _The Art of War_ – a gold sheet marked with the initials _CB_. She swallowed when she read the scrawled message below the brand.

_When you grow tired of charade, I'll be ready to play._

_Monday at dusk, The Gardens._

"Blair?" Ethan called again, and Blair folded the note back into her book, nodding absently. "You coming?"

Oh, yes.

She most certainly was.

:::

_September 26__th__, 2007: Study Hall_

Much like his elder mentor, Damien was very easily defined by the entity that was his father. Walter Dalgaard was known to most as the booming businessman turned raging alcoholic turned tragic drug addict. And it was all true, as he remembered many a needle surfacing from his toy bin and stray bits of white dust decorating their dinner table at the age of ten.

It hadn't always been that way. Damien remembered father-son chess games in Walter's study and tossing around a football in Central Park when he was six years old. There had been something before there was nothing at all – before the first drink was sipped, before the yelling and his mother's tears as she shoved her clothes into a huge suitcase, before Briar and the boarding school before it, and the one before that one too.

Damien wondered if he was better off losing love before he could understand it. Or maybe it was Chuck who was the lucky one – he never knew it at all.

Maybe it was all the same shit.

Damien sighed, glancing at his phone as he pulled up a text from Jenny, who was running late for the period they had free together. They were supposed to meet at one of the study hall corridors in the Main Hall, where Briar students did everything _but _study. Supervision was a joke. And the notion of having a girlfriend made his head spin – which was made more bizarre by the fact that Chuck Bass had orchestrated this all. But as he thought of bouncy blonde hair, shy smiles, tentative murmurs, he couldn't exactly recognize the line that cut across games and reality.

It was then that he felt two tiny hands over his eyes, felt warm breath against his neck. He grinned, pulling them from his face and turning in his seat. "Hey – " He cut short as he was greeted with a swoop of long black hair and heart-shaped lips. "Diana."

"Damien," Diana greeted with a coy smile, sliding into the seat next to him. He swallowed as she ran her fingers through her hair, fringing her bangs before nudging his arm. "The ever _elusive _Damien. Now that I've caught you…you can start answering my questions."

"Look," Damien said. "I'm meeting someone, alright?"

"Jenny," Diana said coolly, her eyes flitting to his lips. "That lovely little relationship sprung up overnight, didn't it?" She paused, the hurt in her eyes betraying her playful demeanor. "Why are you with her, Damien?"

"I like her."

"I like her, too. She's sweet, she's nice," Diana said. "But you and I – "

"Diana…"

"Are you going to pretend like there was nothing between us?" Diana said, her voice shaking. "I _know _that I'm not crazy. All of last year – "

"Diana, don't do this. Not right now," Damien pleaded.

"And this summer," Diana continued, reached out for his hand. Damien let her, already well-accustomed to the softness of her touch. "We both had fun, didn't we? You want me, don't you?"

He and Diana had always had this _thing_, an unspoken bond, friends with benefits – if you had to call it something. Since they'd arrived, he'd been more attracted to her than he'd been to any girl in his entire life. He pursued, and she accepted – thrusting them into a series of bathroom hookups and drug-induced indiscretions. He'd spent the summer with her at her parents' chateau in Tuscany – basking in her beauty and the fine stock of alcohol and hallucenogenics they'd managed to score along the way. She was gorgeous, and he loved her – in the way that one loves in the summer, away from the cruel reality of the school year.

"I've always wanted you," Damien reluctantly confirmed, sitting back in his seat. "But summer's over now. We agreed – we _both _agreed to leave it at that."

"I don't believe you," Diana challenged.

"Diana, it's Briar," Damien said, exasperated. "Everyone has a thing with everyone. You kiss other guys all of the time."

"And you went and got a _girlfriend_." Diana shook her head in disbelief. "Barely a month into the semester. Jenny Humphrey's been in our class for nearly two years. Why the sudden interest?"

"Diana," Damien sighed, leaning forward in his seat. He grasped her hand, running a finger over her knuckles. "You're my best friend – always have been, always will be. And you're going to have to trust me when I say that this has nothing to do with you, and I can't explain this one." Damien shook his head, releasing her hand. "Besides, Harrison seemed pretty taken by you at the ball."

"Harrison," Diana sighed, rolling her eyes. "Don't try to console me."

"I'm not," Damien shrugged. "You're beautiful."

"And you're a fool," Diana snorted, swallowing down the last bit of her pride. "But, look – I know you. I know that there's something behind this thing with Jenny. You're not Chuck Bass, and you've never been good at playing the tin man. Jenny isn't in our league – she doesn't understand our games. If you try to make her your plaything, it's going to be a disaster."

"I know what I'm doing," Damien assured her.

"No," Diana smirked. "You don't."

Damien rolled his eyes at her. "You know me too well."

Diana's expression softened as she bit her lip. "Better than anyone." Damien stopped short, an inexplicable lump in his throat as he was about to respond, but –

"Hey, guys," Jenny called. "What's going on?" Damien snapped away from Diana, a smile tugging at his lips when he turned to Jenny. Diana's heart dropped, the sultriness that she was so fond of wearing evaporating with it.

"Nothing," Diana quipped, recovering. "Just babysitting your boyfriend." She let out a faux sigh, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

"Oh," Jenny murmured, flushing at the title Diana threw around so casually.

"I'll see you at lunch," Diana said, playfully tugging on a strand of Jenny's hair. The blonde giggled, plopping down next to Damien. Diana looked back at him, very aware that his eyes were still on her. "And I'll see you around, Damien. If either of us is so lucky."

:::

_September 28__th__, 2007: Guidance Office, The Main Hall_

_"Oh God, Chuck."_

"Charles?"

_Hips rolling, nails digging, that hair falling over her shoulders as she fought her climax._

"Charles, please."

_"Please, Chuck. Oh God. I can't – I can't – "_

"Charles, I'm speaking to you," Mrs. Reginald hissed, snapping her fingers in front of the boy's face. Much to his dismay, the cracked image of Blair Waldorf moaning beneath him faded away, replaced by the burly, angry guidance counselor in front of him. In the year and a half since he'd arrived at Briar, Mrs. Reginald had been the most consistent thing in his life – always bearing that prim gray bun atop her head and that angry slant on her lips. Chuck blanched, kicking his legs out.

Mrs. Reginald sighed. "Thank you, Charles. I appreciate your attention."

Chuck smirked. "As do most women."

Mrs. Reginald ignored him, typing as she spoke. "How have we been doing?"

"We?" Chuck repeated, raising his eyebrows. "Am I really the one who needs therapy if _you _don't know how you are?"

"It's a form of expression, Charles."

"I prefer other forms."

"I see that you've made a new friend," Mrs. Reginald continued, unfazed. "Ms. Blair Waldorf. I've seen you speaking to her around the dining hall, and before the unfortunate incident at the ball…"

"Stalking me again, Mrs. Reginald?" Chuck tsked. "You do know the barriers of a student-teacher relationship – " He paused, his eyes glinting in amusement. "But I can see how you wouldn't be able to resist."

Mrs. Reginald sighed, pulling her glasses to the bridge of her nose. "Don't you ever grow tired of yourself, Charles?"

Chuck tapped a finger to his chin, pretending to contemplate her question. "I can't say that I do. In fact, I'm quite fond of myself." He raised his right hand, waggling his fingers in the air as Mrs. Reginald grimaced.

"Yes, well," Mrs. Reginald sighed. "Maybe Ms. Waldorf can shape you up a bit – be a good influence on you."

Chuck shook his head, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "I'd say the opposite."

Mrs. Reginald frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

Chuck glanced up with a small shrug. "I didn't say anything."

"Of course not," Mrs. Reginald huffed, shuffling a stack of papers on her desk. "And the mood swings? Have you still been getting them? I know that you're very quick to deny it, but those nightmares, the way your temper can flare, those are signs of – "

"Can I go?" Chuck cut in, growing impatient. He glanced down at his phone, a smile tugging at his lips when he read the text on the screen.

_Got your note, Bass. Please refrain from touching my belongings in the future._

_Not a chance, Waldorf. I've only just begun. ;)_

"You've only been here for ten minutes, Charles," Mrs. Reginald said, drumming her fingers on the table.

"Twelve," Chuck corrected, his eyes trained on his phone. Finally, he grinned up at her, heaving the strap of his bag onto his shoulder. "You know, you were right about Blair, Mrs. Reginald. She's had a striking affect on my grades already."

"Oh?"

"Yes," Chuck mused, getting up from his seat. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go prepare myself. She and I will be partaking in some lessons on anatomy."

:::

_September 28__th__, 2007: Girls' Bathroom, Dexter Hall_

Blair decided to rejuvenate herself with a little takedown before she met up with Chuck on Monday, relishing in the fact that she'd make him sweat by arriving late. Diana and Jenny were on either side of her as they perched against the wall, in the formation of a twisted version of Charlie's Angels. They waited all of fifteen minutes before the bathroom door opened and shut beside them, an airy brunette sauntering through.

"Ladies," Blair murmured, leading them into the dimly lit lavatories. Blair locked the door behind her when she stepped in, which snapped Penelope to attention.

"Blair," Penelope said, her voice faltering. "What the hell do you want?" Blair simply smiled, walking over to the sink next to Penelope's, adjusting the headband atop her head. Diana and Jenny glanced at each other as Penelope grew nervous.

"What do you _want_, Blair?" Penelope repeated. "An apology?"

"Not quite," Blair sighed, leaning against the cold marble. "The word you're looking for is retribution."

Penelope narrowed her eyes. "You don't think the stain on my permanent record was bad enough? And – and getting exiled from _my _table, exploited on the front page of _The Briar Gazette_?"

"Those were just pleasant coincidences," Blair chirped. "If you feel the need to pull amateur stunts as you did at the ball, you'll answer directly to me."

Penelope swallowed. "What are you going to do?"

"Wrong _again_, Penelope," Blair scolded, a sweet smile on her face. "It's what you're going to do." Blair paused, sliding the folder that Diana had given her from her purse. She waved it in front of Penelope for a moment. "You're going to wave your white flag here and now. Your feeble attempt at ruling the Briar hierarchy will be handed over to me, and you're going to stay out of sight and out of mind until we graduate."

"And what makes you think that I'd do that?"

"The folder," Diana chimed in, throwing a bitter smile at her ex-friend.

"I was just getting to that," Blair added, lips curling into a grin. "You clearly didn't know that I do my fair share of research as well. Such a pity, really – that your indiscretions were a bit more publicized."

Penelope froze, eyes darting down to the folder. "No. _No, _that isn't – "

"Penelope Hayward, expelled for texting nude photos to her geometry teacher freshman year," Blair said, her tone bordering on gleeful. "God, Penelope. I could see if it was some sort of sordid affair. But he didn't even _want _you. He reported the photographs right away and filed for a restraining order."

"You have no proof," Penelope stammered.

"No?" Blair questioned, skimming her index finger over the edge of the folder.

"Those pictures were all taken down," Penelope hissed. "My father made sure of it."

Blair smiled, taking a step forward until she stood a breath away from Penelope. "Want to bet?"

Needless to say, Penelope didn't care to wager with Blair's proposal. With a garbled agreement and tears brimming in her eyes, she fled the bathroom, fumbling with the lock as Diana burst with laughter and Jenny went into a fit of silent giggles.

"I thought she was going to pee herself," Diana snorted. "Jesus, Blair. Stalin could've taken lessons from you." Blair smirked, letting out a satisfied breath.

"What are you going to do with those, anyway?" Jenny laughed, pointing at the folder.

Blair raised an eyebrow, flipping the folder open. Jenny's jaw dropped when nothing went scattering to the floor, the empty folder flapping in Blair's hand. "With _what_?"

"You were bluffing," Jenny stated in awe.

"Of course I was," Blair said, tossing the folder into the trash. "And anyway, revenge wasn't worth the years of therapy that would come from seeing Penelope's nudes. Our work here is done. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment."

"Appointment?" Diana repeated. "With who?"

Blair paused, a slow smile spreading on her lips. "The devil himself."

:::

_September 28__th__, 2007: Paramore Fields_

"Waldorf," Chuck called, pushing off from his perch against the fountain. "You're late." Blair smirked as she sauntered over to him, her kilt swirling around her thighs, her hair bouncing around her shoulders. He took a second to admire her, blatantly glancing at the inch of skin peeking out from between her skirt and stockings.

"And yet," Blair sighed, breezing beside him. "Here you are."

"Here I am," Chuck echoed. He reached out to tip her chin up, the pad of his thumb brushing her lips.

"Why am I here, Bass?"

"Because you chose to come."

"Why did you _invite _me here?"

"Because I chose your company."

"You're highly irritating," Blair sighed, sitting down on the bench across from him. But just as quickly, he was yanking her up from the bench, barely aware that they were holding hands as they ducked behind the garden's gates.

"Bass," Blair hissed as he led her past the iron spikes. "Our curfew is in two hours, and we're going to miss dinner."

Chuck smirked, holding a branch out of the way, guiding Blair through a make of trees and bushes. He was careful to shield her from the snapping twigs, lest one of them mar her perfect face.

"By all means," Chuck drawled. "Return to the land of stale beef bourguignon and mindless cafeteria chatter." Blair frowned at him, casting a dirty look in his direction. A few more steps, and they arrived at a lush green landing, remarkably clean in the tangle of woods. Blair froze as the meadow came into full view. There were no signs, but she was sure that they weren't supposed to be there. She considered saying something about it, but Chuck had already ambled over and spread out on the grass, waiting for her to follow.

"You expect me to sit on the grass?" Blair scoffed, toying with the material of her skirt.

He chuckled, spreading out his legs. "You could always sit on me."

"Ugh," Blair groaned, turning her cheek. She sat a foot away from him, tucking her skirt underneath her. Blair stretched her legs out to taunt him, letting her white thigh-highs roll down to her knees, until the cold grass prickled the backs of her legs. Chuck watched her for a moment, smiling to himself before pulling a small silver tin from his blazer. Blair frowned as he rolled a joint right in front of her, pinching it between his fingers when he was done. Her throat went dry when he brought it to his lips, watching her as he took a puff, then another, smoke spilling from the corners of his mouth. Seeing that he had an audience in her, he showed off, pursing his lips and blowing out circles of smoke that faded away just as quickly as they came.

It took her a moment to realize that she was still staring.

"Have something to say, Blair?"

Blair frowned again, clearly irritated. She dropped back to her elbows, looking down the hill in front if them, which was completely empty. "I'm just surprised that you haven't used to some line to goad me into smoking yet."

Chuck laughed, taking another drag. "You wouldn't smoke."

"You have no idea what I would or wouldn't do," Blair hissed.

To this, Chuck shrugged, holding it out to her. She silently cursed herself as she took it from him, her fingers shaking despite her stony expression. Chuck watched her, amused, as she slowly raised it to her own lips.

"Waldorf," Chuck smirked, sliding over to her. "You're not Audrey Hepburn, and that's not a cigarette." Blair stifled a gasp when he came up behind her, his legs falling to either side of her as he reached around to help her. Blair closed her eyes as his breath washed over the back of her neck. "Here, you hold it like this." Chuck took her hand, using her fingers to mimic the way he'd been holding it a second before. Together, they brought it to her lips, and Chuck leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Now breathe in."

Blair did as she was told. Immediately, the smoke filled her lungs, fire burning through her chest. She nearly dropped the joint as she coughed, choking on her own breath. Chuck laughed as he rubbed her back, bringing her closer to his front.

"You're alright, Waldorf. Just breathe."

"I _have _gotten high before," Blair coughed, clearly horrified by finding something she wasn't good at.

"With Nate?" Chuck smirked. "And what? You proceeded to watch him fondle your best friend afterwards? That's doesn't exactly make for a good high." He brought it to her lips again, forcing her to relax as she breathed the smoke in and let it out.

"It's like a wave," he explained. Chuck tugged at her waist despite her murmured protests, bowing her back against his chest. With his other hand, he tilted her chin up. Blair blinked up at the sky as Chuck drew in another drag, blowing smoke over her shoulder.

"Tastes like you," Chuck said, winking down at her. He tossed the joint into the grass, stomping it out with his heel.

"As if you know what I taste like," Blair sighed, but her voice was light, rid of her usual hostility. She was in a daze as she tilted her head back against his chest, sliding up right between his legs.

"I have a pretty good idea," Chuck murmured. He took her hands again, his palms over her knuckles. "As I was saying, you have to come up with it. You have to bring _yourself_ up." He dragged one hand up her body, to the underside of her breast, covered by her oxford shirt. He brought their other hands down to the hem of her skirt, squeezing her thigh before sliding higher.

"I can't," Blair whispered, eyes wide.

"You're not doing anything," Chuck shrugged, squeezing her hand. "I am." It was true. He pushed her hand aside, reaching up to squeeze her breast. Blair let out a choked gasp, throwing her head back, eyes trained on the dwindling light of the sky above them.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Just feel," Chuck insisted. And then it was his other hand, reaching under her skirt. His fingers toyed with the lace of her La Perlas, tracing patterns, applying slow pressure across the dampness there. Blair let out a breath as she backed up against him again, rubbing against his own erection.

"Come up with it, Blair," Chuck pressed on, squeezing the hand over her breast even harder. Blair lifted her hips to meet his fingers once and then again as Chuck applied more pressure, working her like they'd done this a thousand times, and _he_ probably had, but Blair could think of nothing but his hands – guiding, pressing, massaging.

Chuck's eyes rolled back for a moment when her bottom rubbed against him, and he forced a short breath out through his nose. How the fuck would he move on from this? This wasn't…it wasn't just sex. She was so wet that his fingers slipped, and she clenched his hand between her thighs. It was so sensual, so _innocent_, nearly driving him to the brink of insanity. He wanted nothing more than to shove her hand away, pull open his pants, and finish this off himself.

Waldorf was the slowest, sweetest torture he'd ever known.

"I don't - " Blair gasped, closing her eyes. "Oh _God_." She was drowning in it – the haze from her high, the smell of his cologne, his breath at her ear.

Chuck cursed under his breath, wrapping an arm around her front, pulling her back until she was nearly on his lap. And then she seized in his arms, grasping onto his elbow as his hand stilled, her legs pressing tightly together, and it was just her own hips forcing a strangled groan from her throat.

"_Yes_," she breathed. "Yes, yes, yes."

"No," Chuck rapsed, using his other hand to yank her legs apart. "Not yet." He hooked his finger under the lace, shoving it aside. Blair gasped when his fingers slipped across her, testing, teasing, introducing his body to hers. And then his finger was inside of her, just one to get her accustomed to it. The pad of his palm ground against her as his finger sank in deeper, curling in. And Blair – it was all she needed. Chuck bit back his own moan as he held her, watching her come apart. He goaded her with a stream of encouragements in her ear, helping her come down. "There, Blair. Just – _fuck _- Just let go. Let me take you there."

"_Chuck_." She nearly screamed, and he reveled in it. He pressed harder, holding her still, until her hips were rolling and grinding in broken, desperate patterns. "Oh," she whispered, going limp in his arms. Her legs fell against his, and Chuck waited a moment before letting her go. She slumped against him, watching as he idly slipped his finger into his mouth.

"Now I know," Chuck smirked, licking his lips. A wash of sobriety fell over Blair, and her eyes snapped open, her mouth turning down in disdain. She straightened herself, fighting a wave of exhaustion, rolling her stockings up and adjusting her skirt.

"We could've been caught."

"You didn't seem to mind at all," Chuck laughed, amused by her panic. "Blair Waldorf, a little exhibitionist. Who knew?"

"_Stop it_," Blair hissed. But she allowed him to help her roll the rest of her stockings up her leg, his fingers lingering on the curve of her thigh. Blair waited a moment before pushing his hand away, standing up from the grass.

"I'm going to take this little meeting of ours as an agreement to my proposition," Chuck said, watching her pat down her shirt.

"I don't understand what you want from me," Blair sniffed, avoiding his gaze. Chuck cocked his head to the side before standing in front of her, pulling a strand of hair from its entrapment on her lip gloss.

"You're a smart girl, Waldorf," Chuck said. "I think you do."

Blair narrowed her eyes. "I won't love you." She felt the need to say it, as the only way to be his equal, as the only way to stand her ground. Blair Waldorf The Romantic had died along with the Shepards' new nuptials. She would be heartless, and she would be cruel, and she would take what she wanted with out an ounce of regret. After all, emptiness couldn't break.

"I won't love anyone," Chuck replied.

"So it's settled then."

Chuck peered at her for a moment, releasing her face, taking a step back and regarding her furious expression.

"It's settled."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hooray for longer chapters! So, I wanted to thank you guys for the amazing feedback and response to this story. I prefer to do angst over fluff, so I'm glad that you guys are appreciating the style change. Please keep the reviews coming, as they completely make my day while I'm nearly falling asleep in my morning classes. And to the anons who said they were my biggest fans and sent me virtual hugs, I'm hugging you right back.

So yeah, let me know what you guys think. Are you digging the new Diana-Jenny-Damien triangle, or might it end in disaster – since it's orchestrated by none other than Chuck Bass? Expect a new chapter in about a week or a week in a half. Much love!


	5. The Way We Fall

**Chapter Five: The Way We Fall**

_Your salty skin and how it mixes with mine._

_The way it feels to be completely intertwined._

_Not that I didn't care, it's that I didn't know._

_It's not what I didn't feel, it's what I didn't show._

_So let me be, and I'll set you free._

**_–_**** Misery by Maroon 5.**

:::

And so it began.

A girl carrying pieces of a slanted heart and a boy who claimed to be empty inside. They skirted around fragile passion, catastrophe disguised as lust. They asked each other only for an escape – he from the dark cloud looming in his mind, her from the crackled version of herself in the mirror, from the dampened dream of perfection that had slipped away. Maybe it was an infatuation or an obsession – _anything _but tainted love. They were dripping in fear as they traipsed around like chess pieces across a board of emotions, in a game that belonged to neither of them. His move, her move, and then again. And it was fine that way. It all _worked _for Chuck and Blair.

Because sometimes, you just need to find someone whose demons play well with your own.

:::

_October 15__th__, 2007: Dexter Hall Dormitories_

_Blair Cornelia Waldorf,_

_The Victors and Victrolas of The Briar House request your presence during our November initiation. Should you choose to accept, leave a black stone at the departure of your corridors. Further instructions will follow._

Blair eyed the ivory card, pinching it between two fingers, studying the carefully drawn script. Beside her, Diana and Jenny held identical cards, each with their respective names. They were all in silk pajamas – Jenny's borrowed from Blair's wardrobe – huddled on Blair's bed as reruns of _The Hills _played in the background. It had been a long time since Blair had taken a moment to relax, and she now had a healthy glow in her cheeks after seeing Chuck the day before…

It was strange, how things could go from being nothing to _something _in just a month. Years ago, they'd drifted in the same circles, their feeble relationship existing only through tireless banter. And now he was _there _– touching her without a second thought. He'd pulled her behind one of the arches near the fields, backing her up against the old bricks. Of course, Blair had protested, claiming that he was going to put a rip in her skirt or tear her new stockings.

"We can't have that now, can we?" Chuck had murmured, sliding his hand down her thigh, tracing imaginary words over her lace stockings. "You know how I adore them."

"Are they the only thing you adore?" Blair tried. Her voice softened when his lips fell to her neck. She felt him tense for a moment, considering her words. But when his head came up, he wore the same smug expression on his lips.

"Our agreement," Chuck stated, effectively dodging her words.

"You make this sound like a legally binding contract," Blair smirked, rolling her eyes. Chuck turned her with the loops of her skirt. He leaned back against the wall and pulled her up against him, sliding his hands to her lower back.

"I prefer to keep my affairs clean," Chuck replied. "And leave the dirty work for…" He trailed off, his hands dropping to hitch one of her legs up around his side.

"Fine," Blair sniffed, feeling an inexplicable twinge when she thought about all of the other girls he'd done this with. How many "agreements" had he drawn up? How many other curves had his hands memorized? Blair frowned, glancing away from him. _It wasn't about that. It was about escape. That's what she was there for, right?_

"Number one," Chuck murmured. "No one touches you but me."

Blair raised her eyebrows. "Jealous?"

Chuck grinned. "Insatiably so."

"Okay," Blair started. "Then _you _have to promise to renounce your man whoring."

"Jealous, Waldorf?" Chuck retorted, mocking her words. She slapped at his chest, and he grabbed her wrists before she could pull away.

"No. I have this thing called _dignity_." She leaned towards him, holding her gaze steady. "If you want me, then you'll have to drop the sideshows for the main attraction."

Chuck paused for a moment, smiling. "Gladly."

"And one other thing," Blair sighed, trailing her fingers down the line of his jaw. "If you think that you're going to _deflower _me, you're seriously mistaken. Whatever happens between us…happens on my terms."

"Why? Waiting for Nathaniel to swoop in and pop your cherry?" Chuck smirked. "Because I _definitely _see that happening." Blair winced at his words, dripping with sarcasm, and pulled her hands away. Chuck shook his head, glancing down at the slant on her lips before continuing, "Fine."

"That's it?" Blair asked, cocking her head to the side. "You're not going to file an appeal? Call the Bass attorney to argue your case?" She fought to hide the disappointment in her voice. Instead of answering, Chuck had pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips, sliding a hand under her skirt and giving her ass a light squeeze before spinning on his heel.

Breathless, Blair snapped, "Where are you going?"

Chuck laughed, ignoring her. "I don't need to argue my case, Waldorf. You're going to change your mind. All of those years of pent-up frustration and neglected sexuality…when I'm done with you, you'll be _begging _for it."

"Ugh," Blair called after him. "Don't count on it."

Chuck arched a brow, glancing at her over his shoulder. "Care to make a bet?" And so, of course, they wagered on it. Shortly after, Chuck had promised her that he would win. And Blair had promised _him_ that he was delusional. She shook her head, dropping the card onto her lap. _What was she doing?_

"I can't believe this," Jenny whispered, snapping Blair out of her reverie. "This is so _cool_." Blair rolled her eyes and cast a disapproving look at her younger friend. "Cool was being asked to a crowning ceremony by the Duke of Newcastle during my sophomore year." Blair smirked, remembering her friends' shell-shocked faces when the duke had sent a car from the embassy to pick her up from school. Of course, she had butchered the truth back then, claiming to be a college freshman ruling the halls of Columbia while Nate was visiting was visiting with his grandfather in Connecticut. White lies never truly hurt anyone, anyway. "This isn't even on heavy cardstock. It's _cover _paper."

"It only makes sense that we were invited," Diana shrugged, tossing her card aside. "I was a member last year, and both of your boyfriends help run the thing."

Blair frowned, her fingertip skirting over the edge of the sheet. "You think Chuck made this happen?"

Diana and Jenny shared a glance. "Um, by _boyfriend_ I meant the guy you've been seeing for the past month or so. Or has Ethan changed his name?"

"Ethan," Blair repeated, looking away. "Ethan and I are just friends."

"And Chuck?" Diana persisted.

"Ugh," Blair frowned. "We're just benefits."

"So she finally admits it," Diana teased. Blair waved her away, reaching for her cell phone as Diana and Jenny sang juvenile songs about her and Chuck sitting in a tree. God, what were they, in the second grade? Blair shot them a look in warning as she scrolled through her messages, unsurprised by the familiar list of names in her inbox.

_Hey, B. Maybe your reception's not great up there. But I was at the Tribeca, and I saw the tables we used to sit at, and…I just miss you. And I can't wait to see you over Thanksgiving break! Text me, okay? – S_

Delete.

_Hey, Blair. It's Nate. I got a new phone, and I just thought I'd say hey. How's boarding school? Chuck goes there, right? Say hi for me if you see him around. We miss you._

A pensive pause.

And then –

Delete.

_I'm in dire need of my daily ounce of Waldorf. Don't make me beg. – C_

Blair smirked, her finger poised over the screen. Her cheeks flushed, her mouth lifting up into a wide smile. She caught her reflection in the vanity in front of her and frowned. She looked like a toddler on Christmas, her eyes wide and glowing as if Chuck Bass were some sort of prize. Blair silently scolded herself, sobering her expression as she composed a short reply.

_Chuck Bass, a beggar? Maybe I will make you wait._

He replied within the minute.

_Don't torture me._

Blair smirked.

_It's a queen's job, Bass._

As Blair grinned down at her phone, Diana spritzed a bit of Jenny's perfume in the air, sniffing it cautiously. Jenny, unused to talking to Diana without Blair's mediation, just sat and watched, toying with the hem of her gown. It was clear that she and Diana only had Blair's friendship in common. But Diana and Blair looked like they were _born _to be friends – Diana's pitch black hair offsetting Blair's coppery highlights. Blair's eyes were a honey brown, Diana's a stark blue. Blair was the regal beauty, while Diana was her lustrous sidekick. But what did that leave Jenny? The Plain Jane who carried the yogurt around?

"What brand is this?" Diana asked, spritzing the perfume again. Jenny glanced up, the fruity spray filling her nose. She coughed and sniffed, waving her hand in the air.

"It's um…" Jenny glanced down. "It's Katy Perry for Target."

"Right," Diana laughed, tossing the perfume from hand to hand. Her chuckle faded, the grin dropping from her lips when she took in Jenny's serious expression. "Oh…right. Well, it's nice." Diana crinkled her nose. "Nice and fruity." She paused, eyeing the blonde. "I have a bottle of Chanel that I barely use. You can have it."

"Thanks," Jenny murmured, her grin faltering. If she'd learned one thing from Blair, it was that being treated like a charity case would never get her to the top.

She knew what to expect from Blair. Her words were final, her decisions easy, her judgment blunt and mean if it had to be. But the way Diana looked at her, with an edge of fake sympathy and a cocky grin, tugged at something in Jenny that she didn't even know she had. "But no thanks. Chanel's a little last season, don't you think? And besides – " Jenny stood and plucked the bottle from Diana's hands. "Damien likes it on me." Diana took a step back, her expression darkening before she narrowed her eyes.

"Of course he does," Diana coughed. "Good for you."

It was then that Blair perked up, watching the exchange between the two. Her eyes settled on Jenny as she smiled. "Well Little J, there might just be hope for you yet."

:::

_October 17__th__, 2007: The Student Lounge, The Main Hall_

"So, mission accomplished, right?"

Chuck smirked, rolling his eyes at Damien. They sank back against the student lounge's beige couches, taking up more space than necessary. The nerds who passed through to study cast them dirty looks, and Chuck grinned at them all, throwing his hands behind his head. Briar's student lounge looked like it belonged in the lobby of a Five Seasons. The plush couches were huge and immaculate, surrounding glass tables covered in finger foods. The floor-length windows had benches pushed up against them, the drapes pushed aside to let the night in. Students trickled in, couples perched in nooks and girls flipping through magazines on the loveseats. Behind them all was a fireplace, its trickling flames casting a sleepy glow on the room.

"Dalgaard, the games have only just begun," Chuck drawled.

"You're so cryptic," Damien said, shaking his head. "Blair's hot. If I were a year older – "

Chuck glanced at him, annoyed. "If you were a year older, you'd be a junior. And I'd still have Blair."

"Oh, so you _have _Blair now," Damien smirked. "That's new."

"Fuck off," Chuck retorted. "Waldorf and I have a mutual taste for deviousness. She just needs someone to push her over the edge, to take her there. Who better to do that than – " He gestured to himself, tilting his head back. "_Chuck Bass_?"

"I don't know," Damien shrugged. "Maybe all of this monogamy will turn you into a changed man. She's already been all you can talk about for the past month."

"As if you haven't been practically drooling over a little doe-eyed blonde," Chuck smirked. "You're free, by the way. I have Blair's attention. You can discard the groupie." Damien flinched, glancing at Chuck, then down at the ground. He swiped a hand over his jaw and his mind flickered to Jenny.

And then Diana.

"Unless you've forgotten the rules of the game," Chuck added, raising his eyebrows. "Have I taught you nothing about mixing business with pleasure?"

"It's not like that," Damien snapped, an edge in his voice.

"Isn't it?" Chuck replied. "I suggest you do what you will with Jenny's remaining innocence and then drop the façade. Remember who you are and remember who she is." Chuck smirked. "And remember that you have an eager and willing option who's still available. Diana's been staring at you like she'd be down for _anything _– "

"Alright. I get it," Damien said, frowning. He turned to Chuck, but he was already looking away, grinning at something over Damien's shoulder. Damien followed his gaze to Blair, who was still in her uniform, her curls loose and wild around her face as she leaned by the fireplace. She held something in her hands, pretending to read it as Chuck stared at her.

"Look, think about what I said," Chuck said, getting up from his seat. "Don't do anything that I wouldn't. Which includes turning this twisted little version of puppy love into an actual relationship. If only for Jenny's sake, man." Damien nodded, but Chuck was gone before he could respond.

He ambled over to Blair and smiled when she greeted him with a slight grin. Chuck watched as she lifted the card in her hand and waved it in front of him.

"I see that you got my invitation," Chuck said, taking the card from her. "You should've read the back." He flipped it over, revealing "Burn This" printed in gold. Blair frowned as Chuck tossed the card into the fireplace, sending the ivory up in flames.

"Nice touch," she smirked.

"I thought so."

Blair cocked her head to the side, waiting for a few students to pass them before continuing. "And what exactly makes you think that I'd want to join your little social club?" At her words, Chuck frowned. He'd never felt the need to impress anyone, and now here he was, scrambling to get her attention like it was the only thing that mattered.

"It's all part of the process," he tried.

"The process," Blair deadpanned. "And what process would that be?"

"Letting loose," Chuck shrugged. "Setting you free. This isn't the Upper East Side. You can get up to whatever debauchery pleases you."

"Sounds like a ticket to expulsion." Blair grimaced, scanning her nails.

"Sounds like _fun_," Chuck corrected. "Think about it. By next month, you could be one of us – getting up to absolutely no good."

Blair paused, considering it. "And if I require more immediate attention?"

Chuck grinned, eyeing the entrance to the library at the end of the hall. His hand brushed Blair's as he passed by, nodding at her. "Then I'm at your service, Waldorf."

:::

_October 17__th__, 2007: The Briar House Library_

"It's study hour," Chuck reminded her as they ducked behind the reserves. As soon as they were out of sight, he lifted the hem of her skirt and pulled her in for a kiss. His other hand came up to the curve of her shoulder, shoving the collar of her shirt aside, his thumb tracing her collarbone. Blair shivered in anticipation. "You have to be quiet. And we have to be fast. Do you understand?"

"Are you implying that I won't be able to control myself?" Blair retorted, eyeing the hand that had disappeared under her skirt. He wasn't touching her there – not yet. His fingers merely tickled her thighs, making her jerk against the shelves. At her words, Chuck smirked, his body nearing hers and his lips descending on the hollow of her throat.

"I'm only issuing a warning," Chuck said. His thumb flicked up to press straight against her clit, the heat of his skin burning through the lace of her panties. He laughed when her knees buckled, and she reached up to yank at the hair on the nape of his neck. "Let's play…" He nibbled at the skin under her ear and circled his thumb in a steady rhythm until he drew out a sharp breath from her. "How long does it take Waldorf to crack?"`

"I won't," Blair whispered, but the tremble in her voice betrayed her. She could already hear students trickling in, hushed chatter filling the other side of the library. Her eyes widened, and she was secretly thrilled. There was a sick pleasure in having him claim her in the presence of all of their peers – while they went unaware, of course. Just as he had in the field, Chuck hooked his finger through the lace and yanked down until the flimsy material slipped down her legs and pooled around her feet. "_Chuck_," she warned.

"Already?" Chuck scolded. His fingers slipped across her heat before he pulled them away again. Blair lifted her hips, shaking in protest, but Chuck reached down to her waist, holding her still. "I thought you wanted to play, Blair."

"Shut up," Blair hissed, her voice low in his ear. Chuck smiled against her skin, his teeth sinking into her shoulder as two fingers sank into her. She was dripping, clenching around him, and it only made Chuck push deeper, curling into her. "Chuck…_Chuck_."

"This turns you on, doesn't it?" Chuck marveled, finding a steady rhythm as he pushed into her, struggling to find the spot that would force her to break. "I would have never guessed that Blair Waldorf…" He smirked, holding her waist as his fingers hit a rough spot and her knees bent, her head falling forward. "Would love the thrill of danger." Blair shook her head, her eyes rolling back as he hit the spot again and again, his fingers spreading inside of her, his hand jerking back and forth.

"_Doesn't it_?" Chuck hissed. He pushed his knee between her thighs, spreading her legs and goading her on. "Tell me, Blair."

"But – " She couldn't talk, she couldn't moan, she couldn't scream. Blair could only feel him reaching in and tearing her apart. Her vision drowned in lights, and she went deaf to everyone but him. Blair's teeth came down on her lip as her hips jerked up and his fingers followed.

"Tell me," Chuck insisted, struggling to keep his voice down. He was painfully hard, selfishly so. He tugged her against him, his fingers going in deeper – if it were even possible – so that he could rub himself, straining through his pants, against her.

"_Yes_," she gasped. "It's so good." Blair took the opportunity to dig her face into his neck, breathing into his skin as he thrust against her, his fingers relentless. A string of moans escaped through her broken pants. She shut her eyes as his thumb returned to that throbbing nub of heat, circling as he thrust, pressing as he curled. But an ounce of her pushed back in protest, fighting for control.

She couldn't let Chuck _Bass_ have this…in a library – could she?

"Now."

"_No_," Blair panted, reaching back for one of the shelves. "I can't. Not here."

"You will," Chuck rasped, grinding against her leg. "Or the game is over." His hand came up to her hair, pulling her head back. When Blair opened her eyes, there were tears in them as she silently choked, overwhelmed by the rush of excitement, her mouth falling open. He wiped the tears with his thumb, swallowing back the lump in his own throat. The tears spilled down as he pushed her harder, showing no mercy. "You look so fucking beautiful like this, Waldorf," Chuck whispered, attempting a different approach. "Free – uninhibited. I want _you_." It was his proclamation that set her off. Her walls clamped down around his fingers, stopping his thrusts short. Her head fell back against the shelves, knocking the books down around them. He cursed under his breath, keeping his eyes on her as she opened her mouth in a silent scream.

_"What the hell was that noise?"_

"God, I'm going to – "

_ "Someone knocked over the books."_

"Going to – "

_"That's weird."_

"Oh my – _mmph_." He clapped a hand over her mouth as she let out a loud, satisfied groan. Her eyes crossed, and Chuck cocked his head, listening for the conversation on the other side of the shelves as he brought her down with a few gentle strokes. Blair was a trembling mess as she slumped down, bringing her hands up to cover her face. Chuck crouched down, following her to the floor as she steadied her breath.

"Are you..." Chuck wiped his fingers against his pants, struggling to find an ounce of gentleness within him. "You okay, Waldorf?"

"I'm fine," Blair murmured, chancing a glance up at him with a small smile. She lifted her chin and straightened out her legs, running her fingers over one of the knocked-down books. "I won."

Chuck smirked, cupping her face with one hand. He thrust her chin up with his thumb.

"You were crying." His smile dropped as hers did. She shoved his hands away and wiped at her face, looking anywhere but at him. He frowned as she yanked her panties back on and tied her hair into a tight ponytail, sliding her headband back into place.

"I wasn't," Blair spat, fitting the mess of books into a pile. "I don't cry. _Especially _not in public."

Chuck rolled his eyes as he bent to help her. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Waldorf. My moves have been known to draw out the hysterics." He leered at her, and she ignored him, piling the books back onto the shelves.

"Mhm," Blair murmured. Her gaze hardened, and Chuck sighed. Every step forward was five steps back. He'd pulled at a rip, but she was quick to seam it back up before he could see inside. The tears had drawn a weakness in her, and she was back to being the cold-hearted queen who'd walked into Briar a month ago.

"You're going?" Chuck coughed, forcing himself to appear careless. He sank back and watched her reapply her lip gloss.

"What?" Blair smirked, avoiding his gaze. "Did you want to cuddle?"

Chuck narrowed his eyes. "Not a chance."

"Good."

"_Good_."

"I'll see you later, Bass," Blair whispered. His eyes widened when she reached down, her finger skimming over his erection, still straining through his pants. He let out a choked sound, grasping her wrist and pushing her away. She batted her lashes, smiling at him before turning away.

He could still hear her soft laughter – even after she was long gone.

:::

_October 20__th__, 2007: English 120, The Main Hall_

"Blair, hey!"

Blair glanced up, watching a loopy-grinned Ethan walk towards her, his hair mussed up and his tie loosened around his neck. He reminded her so much of Nate that it pulled her right back to the courtyard between St. Jude's and Constance, where she and Serena would wait for Nate to surface from lacrosse practice after third period, his uniform sloppily thrown on, his cheeks ruddy from the wind. Blair swallowed, prying her eyes away from Ethan to look at the wall in front of her.

"Hey," Blair sighed. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

"Really?" Ethan quipped. "So did I. But, you first. What's up?"

"Ethan," she cooed, placing a light hand on his arm. The boy frowned back at her, rumpling his features into an adorable pout. "We're friends, right? Things between you and I are _clearly _never going to work out – " She braced herself, preparing to launch into a fit of the standard break-up lines. _It's not you, it's me. We want different things. Your resemblance to my cheating ex-boyfriend is sort of putting a damper on things._

"Blair," Ethan started, clearly surprised by the turn in conversation. "Don't – "

"Don't make this harder than it has to be," Blair said with a tight smile. "I mean, I can see why you'd be _upset. _But really – "

"Blair," Ethan interrupted, his voice dropping to a low murmur. He glanced around the empty hallway before dropping his head to level with her. "Blair, I'm _gay_."

Blair let out a shocked laugh, shaking her head. "You're…"

"Gay," Ethan repeated, backing away from her. Blair frowned, processing the admission, the smile freezing on her lips.

"No," Blair corrected. "You like me."

"As a friend," Ethan said with a small smile. "I mean, don't get me wrong. You're _beautiful_. I just thought – "

"Don't try to _console _me," Blair spat, her face reddening. "_I'm _supposed to do that. I was dumping you. I brought a _speech_."

Ethan frowned. "But we were never together. You _just _said that." Blair shrugged one shoulder, pursing her lips. "I would really appreciate it if you kept this between us. I've actually always – I like Eric."

"_Little _Eric? Eric van der Woodsen?" Blair let out another laugh, incredulous. Was she destined to be dumped for the van der Woodsen family? "How is that even possible? I'll have you know that my gay-dar is impeccable."

"It's not exactly something I like to advertise," Ethan shrugged, keeping his voice low. "When I came out to my parents, they sent me away. I guess they thought they could _fix _me, but…" Ethan shook his head, trailing off. Blair's anger faded, and she cast him a sympathetic smile. It wasn't as if the concept of fixing a problem by making it go away was foreign to her own mother.

And then she realized –

"You were using me," Blair stated. "I was your beard. How _dare _you? I'm Blair Waldorf. I do the using."

"I'm pretty sure that this was a mutually beneficial relationship," Ethan laughed. "I honestly did want to be your friend. What people assumed from that was just a perk. And when I realized that you needed someone to make Chuck Bass jealous..."

"I was _not _trying to make Bass jealous. There's nothing between us." But Blair was already flushed, feeling completely caught. Her defense faltered into an embarrassed confession, and she fanned at her cheeks. Ethan smiled knowingly.

"Look, it's not a big deal," Ethan laughed, trying to calm her down. "You two…you look good together. You have the whole Mr. and Mrs. Smith thing going on. And the way you look at each other sometimes…I can't tell if you're about to make out or go into battle." Blair rolled her eyes, but the comment brought a smile to her lips. Any comparison to Angelina Jolie was welcomed in her book. She was tired of hearing Serena's endless comparisons to Hollywood's blonde bombshells. It was then that they heard chattering from the other end of the hallway. The period was beginning, and students were making their way to class. The crowd nearly parted for Damien and Chuck, the latter catching her eye instantly. Ethan glanced back at Blair. "Look, we can help each other. If seeing you with me gets on Chuck's nerves, let it. And then maybe…"

"I can help you with Eric," Blair finished. She pondered it, enjoying the idea of playing matchmaker. She seemed to have a handle on everyone else's love life…everyone's but her own. Finally, she let out a small breath and smiled. "Fine. I'm in. The idea of a forbidden relationship holds a certain appeal to me. I'll talk to him."

Ethan grinned, planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek. "Thanks, Blair. You know, you're not the bitch you pretend to be. You do nice things all of the time, when you think people don't notice." Blair frowned, wiping at her cheek, and cast him a dirty look.

"Me? Nice? _No_," she snapped. Before Ethan could argue otherwise, Chuck made an appearance. He waved Damien away before shifting past Ethan and Blair. For once, he didn't spew out a snarky comment. He simply held her gaze as he walked by, narrowing his eyes.

Beside her, Ethan laughed. "Seems to be working." He followed Blair inside as they walked into class. When they took their seats, Blair could feel Chuck's eyes on her. She ignored him on purpose, flipping through her notebook. "You two are crazy." Ethan taunted her, tugging at one of her silky curls. "I can see it now. Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck. It's destined."

:::

_October 21__st__, 2007: The Football Field_

"You hold it like this," Damien laughed, reaching around Jenny to grip the ball in her hands. The blonde giggled, her heart jumping as his lips brushed her ear. Together, they tossed the football, and it landed a pathetic two feet away from them. "Come on," he laughed, "You'll never make the team that way."

"You're not on the team," Jenny teased, elbowing his side. It had been nearly two months, and Jenny was surprised by how comfortable she felt around him. She wasn't starry-eyed or self-conscious like he was some sort of celebrity. She supposed that this was what popularity felt like from the other side – the _nicer _side. But every time she imagined Damien meeting her borderline hipster family in their tiny loft apartment, or Blair eating take-out from Fang Fu's in Brooklyn, her throat tightened.

Back on the Upper East Side, she was Cinderella. And the clock was stuck on midnight.

"So, Dan's your brother," Damien said, pulling a cigarette from his pocket. He glanced around for teachers before lighting it and pulling Jenny down onto the grass. "He's the one with the Cabbage Patch Kid?" He laughed, and Jenny did too, feeling an ounce of guilt at revealing her brother's secret.

"Yeah," Jenny chirped. "And my dad's in a band."

"Nice. Anything I'd like?"

"You have Miley Cyrus on your iPod," Jenny smirked. "So I'm not sure."

"It's one song," Damien groaned, smoke spilling from his lips. But it was comforting, the way Jenny pulled little tidbits and held onto him, memorizing Damien in a way that even _he _didn't care to do. "It's a good one to get high to."

Jenny rolled her eyes. "But you know all of the words."

"Subject change," Damien coughed. "I'm dropping the play. I can barely say that 'Wherefore art thou, Juliet…' line." He shook his head, a jet-black lock of hair falling to his forehead. "I'm done."

Jenny frowned in mock disappointment. "I'm so surprised. I thought theater was your calling."

Damien laughed, tucking her into the crook of his elbow. "Was that sarcasm, Jenny Humphrey? Blair would be so proud."

"Shut up," Jenny frowned. "I can be sarcastic."

"Clearly." He sighed, stubbing the cigarette out without even bothering to offer it to Jenny. She'd turned down every form of intoxication that he'd presented to her. And although he respected her numerous declines, it always caused an awkward pause, a reminder that she was a clueless innocent.

And not in a reserved, sultry Blair Waldorf way.

She felt more like a slobbering middle schooler who'd accidentally sat at the adults' table.

It was then that they heard catcalls from across the field, Diana sauntering in with a skip in her step, blowing kisses as she mocked a celebrity waving to her adoring fans down a carpet of green. The boys at practice were practically drooling over her, completely enamored by her cherry red lips and her messily piled hair. She stopped at Harrison, tugging at his collar and whispering in his ear. He smiled, following her back up the hill she'd come from as the rest of the boys groaned in disappointment.

Jenny looked back to find Damien with a blatant frown on his face, glaring at Diana's retreating form. Jenny bit her lip, forcing herself to ignore the pang she felt whenever she saw the two together. She thought she'd heard rumors last year, of drunken hookups between the two of them. The thought sent a churn to her stomach.

"Are you okay?" Jenny asked, snapping Damien out of his glare.

"I'm fine," Damien said, his eyes flitting to her. "Sorry, I – I'm just a little distracted."

"Do you…" Jenny started, taking a breath. "Did you ever – " She closed her eyes and shook her head. She straightened up and tried to channel Diana, lifting her shoulders and pouting her lips. Damien glanced down, amused as she leaned toward him. "Kiss me."

"What?" Damien asked. "Out here?" Jenny smiled and nodded, pulling her hair from the simple bun at the back of her head. Her blonde curls came tumbling down as his lips found hers. She tasted peppermint and cigar smoke, a combination more delicious than it sounded.

And when his breathing picked up and her sleeve slipped from her shoulder, she let it.

:::

_October 25__th__, 2007: Guidance Office, The Main Hall_

Blair rolled her eyes as Mrs. Reginald tapped away at her computer, her nails clicking against the keys like an annoying tick. Under the opposite end of the desk. Blair scrolled through her texts with Eric, slowly pitching Ethan to him as the conniving saleswoman she could be. When the clicking finally stopped, she spared the haggard woman a glance, dropping the phone into her purse.

"It's wonderful to finally meet you, Blair," Mrs. Reginald said, outstretching her hand. Blair took it gingerly, shaking once before reaching down to wipe her fingers on her skirt. "I've heard great things about you. Wonderful extra-curriculars, top of your class at Constance, with wonderful charity work. You're on the right track to Yale."

Blair suppressed a groan. _Of course she was. _This was supposed to be a therapy session, not an appraisal. "Thank you."

"Now, let's not waste any time and get right to it," Mrs. Reginald continued, clasping her hands together. Blair sank back. _Thank God._ "We're here today because you have a troubling disorder, and your mother thinks that talking about it will do you well."

"That's a little counter-intuitive, don't you think?" Blair smirked.

"How so?"

"I've been to a billion of these little sessions. We're going to sit here and talk about how awful eating disorders are," Blair yawned. "I'm not sure that you can insult bulimia until it runs away."

"Why do you make yourself throw up, Blair?" Mrs. Reginald cut in, holding her gaze. Blair frowned, hating to be ignored and detesting being questioned. She dug her nails into her palm and narrowed her eyes.

"Why don't you read my file?" Blair sighed. "Daddy issues…obsessive-compulsive tendencies…a mean streak. I'm not _stupid,_ Mrs. Reginald. We should stop wasting time on things you already know."

"I don't care about your file, Blair," Mrs. Reginald said. "I want to know why _you _make yourself throw up."

"I – " Blair cleared her throat, wondering which of the hundreds of psychological tricks this one was. Finally, she let bit of the truth escape, her eyes wide as she spoke. "Because nothing is ever good enough. Because nothing is ever _right_."

"And when you're purging, it is?" Her tone wasn't condescending, but honestly curious. It was strange how conversational therapists could be about these things, as if they were recapping _Days of Our Lives _over a cup of tea.

"At least," Blair breathed, tugging a strand of her own hair. "It's something I can control."

"But how do you feel afterwards?"

Blair looked down, letting out a long breath. "I don't feel anything."

Instead of delving into it, Mrs. Reginald simply nodded, offering Blair a kind smile. One that was not returned. "Let's try an activity, Blair."

"What?" Blair scoffed. "Are we going to play charades?"

"I want you to close your eyes," Mrs. Reginald said.

"Uh, no thanks," Blair sniffed. She glanced up with a peeved smile. "Trust issues."

"Just try it, Blair," Mrs. Reginald insisted. "I'm not trying to psycho-analyze you, I promise." After a long pause, Blair finally shut her eyes, crinkling her features in obvious annoyance. The room was silent for a moment, and Blair let out an impatient huff, slumping her shoulders.

"I want you to think about the last time you felt good enough," Mrs. Reginald said, her voice nearly echoing off the walls. "I want you to think about the last time you _did _feel something." Immediately, Chuck Bass flooded her mind. A day before, they'd been back at the fields, perched in the same spot where he'd first touched her. He'd been balanced on his elbows, gazing up at her like there was nothing else in the world. Blair had never been looked at that way. There had always been something else – something better. But Chuck was entranced.

"Are you in that place, Blair?" Mrs. Reginald asked. Blair, lost in the moment, could only manage a quick nod.

Chuck had pulled her down into an open-mouthed kiss, so full of passion that she found herself breathless, falling atop him. She forgot to suck in her already-flat stomach or worry about being too heavy. His hands slid across her back as he pulled her bottom lip between his, sucking and nibbling until the spot was throbbing. She didn't know what possessed her to reach down, grasping him through his pants, a place where she'd rubbed, grinded against countless of times, but she'd never dared to touch.

"_Blair_," Chuck had rasped against her lips, his head dropping to her shoulder. Her smile was wicked, but her eyes searched his for approval. He'd nodded, his kisses broken, groans rumbling in his throat as he pushed against her hand. "It's perfect. You're fucking perfect."

_Perfect._

In one word, Chuck had given her everything she'd been trying to prove her entire life.

It was Mrs. Reginald's voice that snapped her back to the present. Blair was flushed, her eyes still closed as she breathed much too loudly in a room so quiet. She fought to compose herself, biting down on her lip until she drew blood.

"Stay in that place, Blair. Wherever that may be," Mrs. Reginald insisted. "What is it like? What does it make you feel?"

Blair let out an unsteady breath, smiling for a moment.

"Alive."

:::

_October 26th__, 2007: The Briar House Library_

The library was quiet when she found him there the next day. He was at his usual spot, far in the back, on the window seat he'd claimed as his own. Blair felt a rush of excitement upon seeing his form-fitting button down, his blazer cast to his side. His hair was artfully pushed back, all suave, reminding her of the dark heroes in the classics she loved. She picked his blazer up and hugged it to herself, sinking down beside Chuck.

"Hi."

"Hey, Waldorf," Chuck replied, pulling the book in his hands behind his back, hiding the cover from her. Blair narrowed her eyes, trying to subtly take a peek.

"You're reading?" Blair smirked. "Did you need a cover for your issue of _Playboy_?" Chuck rolled his eyes at her, his face going dark as he shifted over the book. Blair gave up, finally settling back against the cold window.

"Not exactly," Chuck drawled, his hand instinctively reaching out to massage her thigh. But the act was more caring than sexual, and it forced them both to tense up, staring down at the spot where they touched. He ceased his movements but kept his hand there, his fingertips brushing her skirt. Blair let out a breath before relaxing under his touch.

"Do you ever miss home?" Blair finally asked. "Fifth Avenue, Central Park, the parties. We belong there, don't we?"

"I belong wherever I go, Waldorf," Chuck said, unused to the serious turn in conversation between them. "As do you. You and I – we were born to lead, whether it's the Upper East Side or Briar." He paused, a smile tugging at his lips. "Or Yale."

Blair pursed her lips, hiding her smile. "Or Yale," she repeated. "If I get in."

"When you get in," Chuck corrected. "You're an admission's officer's wet dream."

"Ugh," Blair groaned, kicking at his shin. "You're so gross." He laughed as she frowned at him. "Anyway," she continued. "I'm sure that you miss your night clubs, and your limo…"

"I have The Victors here," Chuck shrugged, his eyes going vacant of emotion. "And I still have my limo."

Blair let out a sharp laugh. "_Why_? Do you need Arthur to walk you to class?"

Chuck rolled his eyes at her. "Chuck Bass doesn't get exiled without a point of escape. I have him on hand for emergencies." He paused, his hand reaching up to her chin, tipping her face up. "Besides, I've found something that makes Briar ten times more appealing."

"Oh?"

Chuck pulled her up against him until she was practically draped across his lap, an undignified position for a girl who prided herself on being so prim and proper. But when he kissed her, the thoughts fled her brain, her eyes closing in utter pleasure. When he broke away, his expression was dark.

"You've still been hanging around Ethan," Chuck stated, neither accusatory nor simply. Blair fought a smile, placing a hand on his chest for leverage.

"And?"

"_And_?" Chuck repeated. "Have you forgotten the terms of our agreement? He doesn't touch you." Chuck slid his hand around her waist, his hand smoothing over her ass, down her thigh, up and under her skirt. Blair closed her eyes as he explored. "You're mine." Blair didn't know if he'd meant to say the words in the way that she heard them - or if he felt the spark that lit up the air, electrified her skin. He said it again, and she remembered Mrs. Reginald's words. _Think about the last time you felt good enough – the last time you felt something. What was it like? How did it make you feel? _Blair swallowed, gasping for air as kissed her again and again. And they stayed together that night, long after study hours finished, long after they were supposed to be in the library, long after their throats had dried and witty banter faded into comfortable conversation.

Long after an agreement was forgotten, and two stubborn hearts found their rhythm once again.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Basically, I adore you all. Your reviews have been like Christmas presents, and I've been eating them all up. I'm in the middle of moving to a new apartment, but I absolutely had to get this done, so I'm _really _excited to hear what you guys think about it.

**Teaser: **I have to tell you all that I'm beyond excited about the next chapter. Out of all of the ones I've outlined, Chapter Six has been my favorite, and I'm so excited to write it. It's called _Somewhere Only We Know_, and rumor has it that Chuck and Blair will be making a brave return to the Upper East Side for Thanksgiving break. My Briar world and the canon world are going to collide, resulting in a load of drama, angst, smut, and a bunch of revelations that will answer a lot of your questions. As always, leave your predictions and opinions - rants, raves, and all. I'll see you soon!


	6. Somewhere Only We Know

**Chapter Six: Somewhere Only We Know**

_You have always worn your flaws upon your sleeve._

_And I have always buried them deep beneath the ground._

_Dig them up; let's finish what we've started_

_Dig them up, so nothing's left unturned_

– **Flaws by Bastille.**

:::

**Spotted: **A wicked queen and a dark knight stepping foot on familiar ground. Carolyn367 sent us this picture of a beautiful headband-bearing brunette and her dashing companion donning a certain signature scarf. Could it really be C and B returning to reclaim their kingdom, or are they just back to settle some old scores? Brace yourselves, Upper East Siders. Not a soul will be spared.

:::

_November 21st, 2007: The George Washington Bridge_

"You're nervous."

"I don't _get _nervous."

"You don't fool me, Waldorf," Chuck drawled, eyeing her from across the limo's backseat. "I know you." At his words, Blair sighed. She reached up to fuss with her updo again, pinning and repinning her perfect curls until Chuck leaned over and yanked her hands away. Much to her dismay, his own fingers pulled through her hair, fixing it until it was just right again. "You're worried that your ex will still have a taste for a certain van der Woodsen when you see him tonight."

Blair slapped his hand away. "They're not _together_." Blair paused, looking at him. "Are they?"

Chuck shrugged as if she'd just proven his point. "I told you that we could ask my PI."

"That's _creepy_."

"It's effective," Chuck corrected.

"I'm not discussing this with you anymore," Blair snapped. Just as she said it, the limo hit a bump. They were just crossing the George Washington Bridge, heading back into the city for Thanksgiving break. As they swerved into the next lane, Blair nearly fell into Chuck's lap, sending a squeal from her glossed lips.

"Can't get enough, can you?" Chuck smirked, cupping her face as she pushed off of his leg. As always, Blair shot him a dirty look, but he couldn't help but notice that she shifted over to sit right beside him as she collected her things. Chuck watched as bits and pieces of Blair Waldorf's life were thrown back into the lavender Coach bag in her hands. Her favorite nude gloss, rose petal mints imported from Paris, a tiny black notebook with her initials engraved on the cover, and, of course, _The Art of War. _Chuck smiled and helped her, reaching over to pick up one more book that had slipped under the seat. "Forgetting something?"

Blair blushed as she took the book from his hands, clutching it for a moment before gingerly placing it in her bag. Her birthday had just passed, and Blair had found _How to Be Lovely: The Audrey Hepburn Way of Life _beside her pillow on that very morning. Inside was a small note that read, "We all need a fix of our adoration. – C"

Sure, Diana, Jenny, and the rest of the Briar population who already worshipped Blair had lavished her with gifts and servitude for the rest of the day. But her mind had remained on Chuck, and she found herself clutching the book tightly to her chest as she filed through her classes. He _did _know her.

"You just need to relax," Chuck insisted, snapping out of her thoughts and pulling her back onto his lap. Blair moaned in surprise as his lips descended upon hers. He gave her a sweet kiss, a quick one, and his nose brushed her cheek before he pulled back to look at her.

She was breathless as he popped open the buttons of her blouse, his knuckles following a trail between her breasts, to the dip of her bellybutton, and down to the waist of her short black skirt. Chuck let out a ragged breath as he pushed her down onto the seat, splaying her across it and gingerly spreading her legs.

"Chuck," Blair breathed, her body tensing, her limbs tightening as he touched the inside of her thighs. He lifted one leg and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her knee. He hushed her, forcing the hesitance from her with light kisses, murmurs of how soft she was, how beautiful. Blair panted, staring up at the ceiling of the car, overwhelmed when he finished his journey, his fingers tugging her tiny purple panties down, his breath fanning out over her sex. "_Oh_."

"Fuck, Blair. You're dripping." Chuck touched her with one finger first, teasing before he sank right into her, watching in wonderment as she coated his finger, indeed dripping onto the seat underneath her. The combination of his words, of being completely exposed to him, sent trickles of heat to the pit of her stomach and down to her core. When his lips skimmed her wetness, she gasped, her thighs brushing his cheeks, her fingers yanking at his hair to tug his head up. But he was having none of it. Instead, he cruelly pushed her thighs even farther part than before, shoving her skirt around her hips. "_Relax_, Blair."

"But we're almost home," Blair argued. "I – "

"I can be fast," Chuck murmured against her. "But you already know that. Don't you?" She barely had a moment to recall their hasty time in the library before his tongue swept across her wet folds, tasting her as another finger joined the first. Blair saw stars, incoherent whimpers escaped her throat, filling the limo. Chuck growled, his face digging further, his finger reaching to push deeper, to find the end of her. Listening to his name fall from her lips, feeling her frantic fingers tug through his hair, it turned him on like nothing else. Her hips rose to meet his mouth in broken thrusts, her panic in the shadow of pleasure as she rose and rose to the brink of something she'd never felt before.

"Please, Chuck. _Please_," Blair cried, begging for something she couldn't quite understand, pushing her thighs together to hold him against her. She just needed…just wanted him to –

And then his lips found her clit and suckled, a third finger curling into her with the rest. His other hand reached up, slid to her stomach and pressed down, applying the slightest bit of pressure there. Blair seized under him and cried out, her legs shaking in spasms, her eyes rolling back until white swam behind her lids. He held her down, lapping up the prize of his labors as she fell from her high. Finally, her hips dropped back onto the leather bench, a long sigh escaping her lips as strands of hair fell around her face.

"Chuck," she whispered. He waited for her to continue, but she only shot him a hazy smile and closed her eyes again. Chuck grinned, pleased that he had this effect on her. He gently tugged her skirt back down, buttoned her blouse up and slid everything back into place. He fought his own desire, focusing solely on Blair when he pulled her up into his arms, drawing lazy circles on her bare thigh. "Chuck…" she murmured again, nuzzling her face into his shoulder. It was so unlike her to show this bit of affection. She was always playfully teasing him, running off just to torture him. But now her smile was almost adoring, and he found himself cuddling her against his side.

"How was that?" Chuck asked, stroking the curve of her cheek.

Blair shook her head, her eyelashes tickling his neck. "It was…"

"Mr. Bass, we've arrived at the Waldorf's penthouse."

Arthur's loud knock on the partition shattered their moment, and Blair jerked out of his arms, much to Chuck's disappointment. She righted herself, avoiding his eyes as she checked a small compact for smudges in her perfection. She hitched her bag onto her shoulder and let out a long breath before Arthur opened the door for her. But before she could escape him, Chuck caught her wrist and held her there, one heel parked on the cement.

"I'll see you at the benefit tonight," Chuck said, a twinge of desperation in his voice.

"The benefit," Blair repeated, her eyes widening. "I'd almost forgotten…"

"I can imagine," Chuck smirked, nodding at where she'd just been laying. "You were a bit preoccupied."

Blair flushed again, and the lovely glow remained on her cheeks. "Everyone will be there. Kati, Iz…"

"Serena and Nate," Chuck finished, his eyes darkening when her expression soured. Once upon a time, they'd all been friends. But friendships on the Upper East Side were like the bronze finishes that adorned their penthouses and brownstones – beautiful and brandished. But sooner or later, rainfall would force them to rust. Chuck stopped for a moment, his hand sliding from her skin. "I'll pick you up at seven."

Blair blinked, surprise lighting up her face. "_You _want to be my date?"

"Consider it another perk of our agreement," he drawled, tipping her chin. Blair rolled her eyes and smiled. Of course Chuck Bass thought himself to be God's gift to mankind. She was just about to turn him down, opting to go stag, when both of their phones chimed simultaneously. And now that they were back in the city, that could only mean…

_Rumor has it that two blondes were seen picking out some new garb for tonight's benefit. Poor B, seems like the saying has been wrong all along. Absence does make the heart grow fonder…for someone else._

Blair frowned at the Gossip Girl blast, staring down at the picture of Nate and Serena at Bloomingdale's. Serena looked older now, her hair glowing with highlights, her legs bronzed and long. She held an orange dress up to her chest in the picture, white teeth bared to Nate as he appraised her figure. Blair's grip on her phone tightened, to the point where Chuck thought she might break it. He reached out and pried it from her fingers, turning it off and dropping it into her purse.

"Seven?" Chuck asked again, forcing her chin up so that she would look at him.

"Seven," Blair agreed, steadying herself as she stepped out of the limo and took her suitcase from Arthur. Chuck smiled as she walked into her building, inexplicably delighted when she grinned back at him before sauntering through the doorway.

"Arthur," he called out when the limo was in motion again, advancing down Park Avenue. "We're going to make a few stops before tonight's benefit. Starting with the florist."

:::

_November 21st, 2007: The Waldorf Penthouse_

The Waldorf Penthouse was exactly as Blair had left it at summer's end. She paused in the foyer for a moment, trying to feel an ounce of emotion, trying to grasp onto something that wasn't there. This should have been the moment when memories came fluttering back, when nostalgia and homesickness clouded over. But she could only recall a fleeting afternoon at her eleventh birthday party, a miniature version of herself flouncing around this very floor.

She'd had shorter hair then, with dark auburn curls that bounced around her shoulders. The entire fifth grade class had been present, Kati and Isobel following her around, even at that age. Blair was enjoying the spotlight, pleased by all of the attention her birthday brought her. The room was dripping in purple, bows and silk table covers, dyed peonies and a five-tier cake in the dining room.

"Miss Blair," Dorota had called, shuffling Blair into the living room. "Mrs. Eleanor say its time for pictures." Blair pouted as she was pulled away from her adoring little crowd. Across the room, Harold had smiled at his daughter's disgruntled expression, encouraging her to go on with a slight nod.

"Mother _always _– "

"I always what?" Eleanor had sighed, coming up behind her daughter. Blair froze, her face dropping as her mother immediately went to fix the bow at her back, tugging at the fabric of her dress. "And what is this? Your outfit…it's all wrong. Blair, what have we discussed about chiffon and Mary Jane's?"

Blair frowned, shifting away from her mother's clenching fingernails. "Dorota let me get ready on my own because it's my birthday. Don't you like it? I tried to copy your magazines, and…"

"Well," Eleanor had sighed, disappointment coloring her features. "You copied them _wrong_. And this – " Eleanor yanked the thin orange headband from Blair's hair. Blair yelped, trying to reach for it before her mother cast it to the side. " – does not match with that dress. Dorota, take Blair back into her room and help her change into something more _tasteful_." Dorota had given Blair a sympathetic pat as they shuffled up to her room, putting a simple blue dress on her. They sat at Blair's vanity as Dorota pinned her hair up, Blair trying her hardest to keep the hurt from her expression.

"Miss Blair," Dorota had tried, spinning the girl in her seat. "Your mother just want you to look perfect for party. She care about you very much." Blair nodded, avoiding the maid's eyes as she left the room, heading back downstairs. The foyer was empty, and Blair heard a fit of laughter from the sitting room. She frowned as she poked her head in, gasping when she saw her guests all lined up for pictures already, Serena and Nate standing at the center of them all.

"Darling, you need to wait for Blair," Harold had demanded, trying to take the camera from wife.

"_Nonsense_," Eleanor had hissed, yanking the camera back. "She'll be down in a minute. I just want to get a few shots of these two." She pointed at Nate and Serena, who looked like a pair straight out of a GAP commercial. "They're absolutely stunning." Blair could take it no longer, and she fled the room, curling up at the foot of the grand staircase. Her head sank into her hands, tears staining the lap of her dress. She was so lost in her sobbing that she could not hear the footsteps come up beside her. She had felt a hand tap her shoulder, and she startled, immediately wiping the tears from her cheeks. She glanced up at the dark-haired boy in front of her.

"You alright, Waldorf?" Chuck had asked, adjusting the small bowtie around his neck. "You're missing your party."

"It's more like _Serena's _party," Blair murmured as he sank down beside her. They sat in silence for a moment, Blair steadying her breath and Chuck watching her.

"You shouldn't cry," Chuck finally shrugged.

"I wasn't crying," Blair snapped, wiping the last of the wetness from her face.

"Okay," Chuck mused. "You weren't crying." He tried to make light of the situation, but the frown remained on her face. Feeling for the small black box beside him, he said, "Do you want your present?"

At this, Blair perked up. "A present?" He nodded and placed the box in her lap. Blair bit her lip as she lifted the lid, revealing a small diamond tiara, glittering against the black satin, one that she'd seen countless of times, nestled in the hair of her idol on the silver screen. She gasped, dropping the box away to trace the shiny studs with the tips of her fingers. "Chuck, I don't know what to say…" She frowned, glancing at him. "Did your nanny pick this out for you?"

Chuck rolled his eyes. "I'm Chuck Bass. I pick out my own things." And it was true. He'd taken one of his various Bart-controlled credit cards and had Arthur drive him over to Cartier. Of course, it was Arthur who'd purchased the diamonds for him, but it was Chuck's gesture all the same.

"But how did you know?" Blair asked.

"You make us watch _Breakfast at Tiffany's _every time we come over," Chuck huffed, disapproving. "It wasn't hard to guess." He couldn't help but smile as she excitedly slid the band onto her head, the diamonds radiant against her messy curls.

"I love it," Blair grinned. "It's perfect." She sat upon the step, poised to give him a chaste hug. Chuck tensed in preparation, his arms raising as she leaned over, but a voice broke into their moment. Nate stood in the hallway, smiling at Blair with a toothy grin, telling her to come take a picture inside. Blair immediately jumped up, and Chuck watched as a little princess who would one day be a queen returned to her subjects. Realizing that his arms were still outstretched, he frowned and dropped them, watching her go. But before she followed Nate back into the sitting room, she turned back to Chuck.

"Thank you," Blair had chirped.

"You're welcome." He paused, eyes raking over her tiny form. "I liked your first dress, by the way. Purple suits you."

Blair had smiled then, giving him a little twirl before tilting her chin up. "I picked it out myself."

"_Miss Blair_!" Dorota now came barreling towards Blair, pulling her into a tight hug as she snapped the girl back to the present. As she loosely wrapped her arms around Dorota, the memory slipped away from her. Blair eyed the staircase, glancing at the bottom step where she'd cried, and she thought of the boy who'd saved her. She thought of the boy who was saving her now. Years had passed, but the answer was somehow still the same.

"Hello, Dorota," Blair said kindly, giving the woman a light squeeze before pulling away. She glanced around, listening for her mother's ever-present voice barking into her cell phone, and even for Cyrus's bumbling voice as he hung on her every word. But the apartment was silent, completely desolate. "Is Mother out?"

The maid clasped her hands behind her back, looking nervous. "Miss Blair…Miss Eleanor is still in Singapore with Mister Cyrus."

"She's…" Blair trailed off, holding her breath. "Did you not tell her I was arriving today? God, Dorota. I only asked you to do _one _thing."

"Miss Blair, I did tell her," Dorota murmured, taking her bags and helping her up the stairs. "She say that Thankgiving is too short to fly back in from business trip. She and Mr. Cyrus will stay in Singapore for break." The words deafened Blair for a moment, sending her into a fit of paralyzing shock. She sat on her old bed, clutching at the sheets as Dorota went on, fixing the rest of her things. "Miss Eleanor say to call Miss Serena and have Thanksgiving at the van der Woodsen penthouse."

Blair's throat dried. "You're kidding."

"She say sorry – "

"_Sorry_?" Blair echoed, tears stinging her eyes. She blinked them away, eyes rolling up to the ceiling. "I don't know why I'm so surprised. I don't know why I even came back."

She felt a rush of panic, the control slipping as if it were sand through fragile fingers. The feeling rose to her throat, and she gasped, gripping her own knees as she leaned forward. Dorota went to help her, but Blair waved her away, demanding that she fix her a cup of tea downstairs. The minute her maid was out of sight, Blair grabbed for the box of macaroons she'd always kept stored in her nightstand. She shoved one after the other into her mouth, tasting nothing as she swallowed it all down. She didn't cry or feel. Because _this _was all she had. And as she leapt up to run for her bathroom, she knocked her purse over, sending her books to the floor. Her hand dropped from her mouth as her eyes caught the stunning picture of Audrey on the cover of the book Chuck had gifted her. She turned to the bathroom, and then she turned back, picking the novel up from the floor. She traced the letters of the title. _How to Be Lovely._

Audrey Hepburn would never stick her fingers down her throat. She would _never _wretch out her problems. Blair set the book down, sitting back at the edge of her bed as the food settled in her stomach. Of course, she thought of Chuck as the urge faded away. She thought of his hands on her in Briar's kitchen, of raw desperation, one that entirely matched her own.

_You're not going to do it._

Blair exhaled, closing her eyes.

_I'm not going to let you do it._

She clutched at her stomach.

_Use this – _

Blair smiled as Dorota brought in her tea, already distracting Blair with chatter about that night's benefit.

_- and forget everything else._

:::

_November 22nd, 2007: The Briar House, Dexter Hall Dormitories_

Diana was not one to bother with the formalities of family holidays. She did what she pleased, going with whatever she felt was right. And as she couldn't bear another stiff dinner in her aunt's stiff, musky manor in Westchester, she felt that Briar was right – even if it meant eating turkey from cafeteria trays and wandering through the halls all on her own. Well, not exactly on her own. Students trickled around here and there, including Damien Dalgaard, who was parentless on these occasions, just as she was. With his father in another rehabilitation stint and his mother completely off the grid, Damien was the only one who knew this feeling. And with Jenny gone, back in Manhattan with Chuck and Blair, Diana fully intended on reminding him of it.

She sighed, tugging a lock of straight black hair above her upper lip, creating a faux mustache as she kicked her feet against the bench she sat on. Exhausted by her boredom, she bounced up and skipped over to the student lounge, passing a few of the Thanksgiving stragglers still on campus on the way. Diana paused when she noticed a familiar head of jet black hair, belonging to a boy she'd recognize anywhere. She couldn't hold herself back for a moment.

"_Excusez-moi_, Monsieur Dalgaard," Diana huffed, taking on a fake accent as she plopped down on the seat beside him. "You're in my seat." A smile cracked upon Damien's lips as he glanced at Diana's arched eyebrow, her amused eyes.

"Oui, oui," Damien retorted, scrambling for the bit of French he'd failed during their freshman year. Diana laughed at him as he grumbled a terrible accent, shifting over to give her some room to sit down. She bit her lip, and they grinned at each other like two lost children who'd just been reunited. "So…none of Aunt Evil's dry turkey this year?"

Diana shook her head, throwing her head back in a fit of giggled. "Aunt _Eva_," Diana corrected. "Won't have the pleasure of my company this year. In all honesty, I think she's screwing her pool boy. That's not exactly something I want to bear witness to."

"Jesus," Damien said, lightly shoving her knee. "Don't put that image in my head."

"Oh, come on," Diana insisted, shoving back. "You know that Eva always had that sick little crush on you." They both shuddered, remembering the many times Diana's older, intense aunt had practically pounced on him when he'd stayed over at her manor for the holidays last year and the year before that.

"_You're _sick," Damien groaned, but his voice was airy and relaxed. Diana smiled and kicked her legs up onto his lap, toying with the sleeve of his white sweater. It was easy for them, love that needed not to be explained or labeled, ruined or lost. To have one who so honestly cared for the other…it was all Diana wanted. It was all Damien wanted. And, just for a moment, his mind emptied of the blonde he'd bid farewell to the day before.

"I miss you," Diana murmured, her chin falling to his shoulder. "I miss your stupid jokes, and I miss getting drugged up until the laughter hurts and the stars fade and you and I are the last ones standing. I miss my _best friend_."

"Diana – "

"Don't," Diana snapped, gripping his arm. "Don't make me feel like I'm some two-timing whore for wanting to be with you. I've always been here, Damien. _Me._ I went with you to visit your father in rehab. I snuck drinks into the Westminster Chapel with you when we both failed our midterms and needed to forget it. I was there for everything. _We _are history." Her voice dropped low, her blue eyes glowing with honesty. "We're real."

Damien swallowed. "I know." He sighed. Real. Realer than one of Chuck Bass' commands. Realer than a girl who made him smile on the surface but knew nothing about playing in the dark. "You don't have to tell me. I _know_."

"So then explain this _thing_ with Jenny," Diana demanded. A sharp laugh escaped her throat, one of disbelief, one to mask the hurt. "Tell me that you and she are – " She was silenced by his lips on hers, a heady feeling washing over her brain. To want something this much was completion. To want something this much…it took them higher than any drug they'd swallowed, sniffed, or snorted. _This _was pure bliss.

Damien blinked at her when he pulled away, immediately wanting to taste her lips again. "If we…I don't know what's going to happen when…"

"It's okay," Diana cut in, her eyes eager now, her smile bright. "We'll figure it out together. We always have. _Together_."

"Together," Damien agreed before tugging her closer, lifting her to straddle his lap, his head falling back as her lips found the spot where his ear met his neck. Her hair curtained around them, clouding their kiss as he moved her hips against his in the empty lounge, hiding the rest of the world from their embrace.

But not hiding the rest of the world from them.

:::

_November 21st, 2007: The Henry Sinclair Benefit for Impoverished Children_

They only felt guilt.

Nate and Serena clutched at their drinks, desperate to settle their nerves as the Sinclair benefit kicked into full swing. Billionaires were all around them, talking endlessly about absolutely nothing as they sipped champagne from silver flutes. It felt like years had passed since they'd said goodbye to Blair that summer. The tides had turned, the leaves had darkened to a confused, angry cross of red and orange. Serena had fallen in love with a boy from Brooklyn, a boy with a name like _Dan Humphrey_. And her attention was as sporadic as the wind, costing her relationship with her family. Nate's world had crumbled into newspaper clippings and court hearings. His father was a disappointment, and his mother was made of stone. And no one, not even a beautiful, strong-willed little brunette was there to pick up the pieces.

"Do you think she'll be here?" Serena asked, twiddling her thumbs. They'd decided to team up for this very occasion, hoping to plead their case to Blair together, hoping to salvage the twisted normality that had existed before she'd gone to boarding school. But as Nate stood beside Serena, he reconsidered the idea, realizing that Blair would go ballistic upon seeing them together after what had happened at the Sheperds' wedding.

"I hope so," Nate shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. Serena distractedly waved at her real date from across the room. Dan waved back, looking out of place among the sea of Armani suits and dresses ripped straight from Madison Avenue. But Serena's face was adoring, her smile lighting up her whole face.

Nate wondered if could get away with sneaking away to roll a joint.

"Maybe she won't show up."

"I think," Serena breathed, staring across the room, her lips parted in surprise. "I think…she already did." Nate followed her gaze and nearly lost his footing as his eyes found a brunette dressed in scarlet across the room. Blair looked stunning in her floor-length gown, the red silk hugging her breasts and holding tight around her hips. Loose curls tumbled down to her lower back, her eyes sparkling behind the browns and creams of her makeup. Her cheeks were happily flushed, her lips painted with red too. Behind her, a man shrugged her shawl off, his smile wickedly daring as his hands brushed her arms.

Serena let out a sharp breath. "That's…"

"Chuck," Nate finished. "That's Chuck Bass." The two glided through the room as if they were some scandalous, hot couple residing on Park Avenue. His hand rested on her lower back, his lips brushing against her ear. Chuck said something snarky, and she laughed like Nate had never seen her before, so unreserved and brazen. Nate was just about to mention it to Serena when Blair suddenly looked up, catching his eye from across the room. She froze and Chuck tensed, taking in the sight of his old best friend.

And then the two of them were there, two dark souls reflecting everything that Nate and Serena were not. And, for once, Blair was not ashamed of it.

"Well, I'd love to say that I'm surprised," Blair drawled, snatching a flute of champagne from a passing waiter's tray. "But I'm not. This all really stirs up the memories. You two…that lovely faux innocence in your eyes. I even think there's an empty barroom through those doors over there." Blair leaned forward, red lips curling up to reveal dimples. "Stop me if you think you've heard this one before." Beside her, Chuck coughed back a laugh, casting a nod at Nate, who just frowned in confusion.

"B…" Serena started. "I know that we've had our issues, but there's so much to catch up on, and I thought we could use this time to do that."

"So that I can get a play-by-play on the Serena show?" Blair shook her head, downing the rest of her champagne. "Thanks, but no thanks."

Serena took a breath, glancing at Nate for help, but he only shrugged. Chuck's gaze remained cool, entertained by what was unraveling before him. "B, when you left this summer, we were friends. I thought things were good between us."

This time, Blair's face darkened. She looked at Nate and then back at Serena with pure disgust. "That was before you had sex with my boyfriend. That was before you _exiled _me to boarding school." Blair backed away, almost leaning on Chuck for support. "In what world did you think I'd forgive you for that? Because it isn't this one."

"Blair…"

"Now if you'll excuse me, I need some air," Blair said. But before she left, Chuck stopped her, sliding his silver flask into her hands. Serena expected her to be appalled, just as the old, prissy Blair would have been. But she only smiled and took it from him, discreetly refilling her flute with scotch. Chuck smirked as she gulped it down, touching the edge of her lips to check for smudges in her lipstick. And then she was gone, her hips swaying as she sidled through the crowd, appraised by every single person she passed by. After thoroughly watching her retreating form, Chuck turned back to the two blondes, raising his flask before blatantly drinking out of it.

"Chuck, what's going on?" Serena demanded, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

"Nice to see you, too, S," Chuck smirked. "I hear that you've been slumming it on the other side of the bridge lately. Your taste really has taken a turn for the worst in Blair's absence."

"Dude, Blair's my girlfriend," Nate spat, ignoring his words, suddenly overcome with an ounce of bravery. "You and Blair, seriously?"

At this, Chuck shook his head. "You mean ex-girlfriend." Chuck turned to look at Blair, who was clearly the center of the room's attention now. "Blair doesn't belong to anyone. She doesn't answer to anyone. And she does whatever she pleases. Perhaps your little mishap was the best thing that ever happened to Waldorf."

"So, you two are…"

"Oh," Chuck grinned. "Let's just say that Blair and I are well-acquainted."

Nate took a step forward, his fists curling at his sides. But Serena stopped him, grasping his arm with a slight shake of her head. "Chuck, you're her friend now. You have to do something. This new Blair – "

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" Chuck cut in. "There is no new Blair. There's the Blair who was in your shadow for years. There is the Blair who's been throwing herself at you since we were little kids. She's always been there. She just needed a little – " Chuck pursed his lips. " – push."

Across the room, a petite blonde stood in front of her disapproving brother as he took in her new look, the smoky make up around her blue eyes, the yellow strapless dress that pushed up the bit of cleavage that Jenny Humphrey never knew she had. Dan, who was supposed to be Serena's escort before she had abandoned him in pursuit of her excommunicated best friend, shrugged his coat from his shoulders to cover her up, but Jenny pushed it away, rolling her eyes.

"This isn't you, Jenny," Dan huffed. "You look like the girls we used to laugh about – "

"No," Jenny corrected. "Those were the girls you and Dad used to laugh about. You both just assumed that I was some activist freak like the rest of the Humphrey clan. _This _is who I've always wanted to be. Don't ruin this for me, Dan."

"Come on, Jenny. You look like a miniature version of Blair Waldorf, for crying out loud."

"And is that so bad?" A cool voice interrupted their conversation, a flash of scarlet appearing beside them as Blair herself hung beside Jenny, challenging Dan with dark eyes. "Because you're much better off with the tortured artist spiel? When was the last time a Humphrey original was being put up for sale?" Dan parted his lips, his neck beating red. Blair held up a finger, a snarky smile on her face. "Oh, that's right – _never_."

"Look, this is between Jenny and I, Blair. I don't – "

"No. You see, Jenny is my friend." The blonde flushed as Blair spoke, biting her lip. "She's at her full potential. And she doesn't need your holier than thou act shoving her back into the land of the lame."

"I'm not going to let her become one of you," Dan protested, shoving his hands in his pocket.

"That's rich," Blair smirked. "Coming from someone who's dating Serena van der Woodsen. How long do you think it'll take this time? For her eyes to wander, for her to find some Italian tourist or suave intern that'll promise her escape? How long will it take for you to lose all of this because S got bored?"

"What – "

"You don't know my world as well as you think you do, Dan," Blair said, her tone cutting and sharp. "Permanence is never a promise here, especially not when it comes to love. So watch your step. The fall is long and rarely worth the crash." Dan swallowed as Blair backed away, casting Jenny a small smile. "Call me later, J."

As Blair sauntered off, Jenny's withering glare turned on Dan. "How could you embarrass me like that? Don't you know who she is? What all of this means to me?"

"Jenny…"

"You're such a hypocrite, Dan. You want to brood and whine about how terrible life is?" Jenny spat. "Do it on your own. You don't want me to be happy. Misery just loves company." Jenny shoved through the crowd, her cheeks flaming as she pulled her phone from her clutch. She dialed Damien's number, finding a quiet corner of the room to wallow in. She heard a click and held her breath, waiting for him to greet her, but –

_Hey, you've reached Damien, and I'm too lazy to talk to you right now. Leave a message if you want._

Jenny shook her head and dialed him again with shaking fingers, forcing herself to forget Diana, who had flounced around their cafeteria table on the last day before break, hunching right between Jenny and Damien. Jenny had glanced up, startled by her appearance, but Diana's eyes were trained on Damien.

"Looks like it's just you and I this weekend," Diana had said, with that signature flip of her hair. Jenny dropped her phone into her purse when she got Damien's voicemail again. And like a twisted Cinderella, she ran from the ball.

:::

_November 21st, 2007: Bass Industries_

After the benefit, Chuck found himself stepping into his father's office, and present were the unshakeable nerves that plagued him whenever he was about to confront Bart Bass. He'd fled early, leaving Blair to her grand moment, pleased that he'd given her the entrance she'd wanted. It was strange, this feeling. Whatever pleased her, satisfied him as well. Her grin matched his own when he'd left a bouquet of bright peonies in her foyer before the benefit. He wasn't sure he liked this sudden dependency, this fluttering that had commenced in the pit of his stomach.

Maybe it was wise to have left early after all.

It was late, but Bass Industries was still in full swing, tireless interns shuffling floor plans on wide desks, assistants crowding the coffee machines and pulling in and out of closed offices. Chuck winked at Bart's new secretary, reaching over to toy with a strand of her hair, brisking the sleeve her dress until she allowed him in unannounced. Chuck walked in on his pensive father, who, as always, appeared empiric as he sat at his desk, typing something into his computer.

"Father," Chuck coughed, such formality foreign on his tongue after his months of boozing at Briar and being wasted in Cancun on the summer before. His father looked up sharply, icy blue eyes nearly cutting Chuck down.

"Chuck," Bart said, clearing his throat. "I wasn't expecting you home tonight."

"Your secretary let me in," Chuck leered, a weak attempt at bonding with his father. Bart remained unmoved. "I came to see if you had work that needed to be done, or – "

"Cut to the chase, Chuck," Bart said. "What is it that you want? Money for booze? Is there some strip club that won't let you in? Your excuses are growing quite old."

"Look, I've been trying – "

"Trying?" Bart's laughter was cruel as he pushed up from his seat. "I can see how hard you've tried every time I get a call from Briar complaining about your insolent behavior. You've become a failure, still a problem from miles away."

"Things are different now," Chuck rasped. His voice cracked, and he hated himself for it, hated the way he turned into a young boy dragging at his father's feet when he tried to plead his case. "I have…" _Blair_. He didn't say her name, but he thought of her all the same.

His father stepped away from his desk, a familiar spark of anger lighting his eyes. Chuck wondered if being heartless was hereditary.

"Pull another stunt, and you'll be out on the streets," Bart said, slamming his fist against his desk. "Do you think you're anything more than an obligation? Do you think you're something to be proud of?" Words battered like fists in a game Chuck knew all too well. Chuck's nostril's flared, his father's face reflecting his own as he remembered himself – six years old, dreams uncrushed.

"_Dad, look! I learned a new note on the piano. I can play a whole song now."_

"_Do you think real men play that nonsense? Do you think you'll be good for anything with a skill like that?"_

"_Dad – "_

"_Sometimes I wonder if you really are my son."_

Chuck stared into the eyes of a man who stepped on lives and tainted hope until its definition was lost. His eyes blazed when he spat, "Fuck you."

And when Chuck's back hit the wall, when Bart's fist came down like a reminder, a snap broke through the room and blood rushed to skin, announcing to the world that love did not live there.

:::

_November 22nd, 2007: The Palace, Room 1812_

Chuck numbed it down. He took a sip of his drink for every drop of rain that fell outside, his eyes unfocused on the ceiling above him. He cursed his high tolerance, cursed being able to drink a brewery without facing an ounce of tipsiness. His cheek was sore, his limo forgotten as he had ambled home, far away from the empire that had built a family of stone. He held his phone in his hands, poised over Blair's name in his contacts. He tapped out letters, stared at the product. _I need you_.

He erased, he repeated, but he did not send it.

It was then that he heard a knock on his door. He yelled for the intruder to go away, downing the rest of his glass, shutting his eyes against the sting of alcohol. But the knocks came again, more insistent this time. Chuck stumbled over to pull open the door, fury written all over his face. And then the world shifted. Blair stood before him, still dressed in her gown from the benefit. Her chest heaved, her body wet from the rain, her eyes bright and waiting as they stared at each other.

"You're here," Chuck said, eyeing her hair, curly and wet around her face.

Blair nodded, shutting the door behind her, blindly turning the lock. "I'm here."

And then she was in his arms. Chuck thrust her chin up, bowing her against him – an anchor or a snare, she didn't know. He stroked her like a feather, threw her like stone, and she reached up to match his frustration, toxic tangling with venom until it faded to dust. She closed her eyes, unable to meet his stare. Chuck Bass was too beautiful, too tragic to hold in with a simple glance. If she looked for too long, she might just break. But maybe that was what he wanted.

"I'm broken," was all he said as his shaky hand pushed the strap of her dress off her golden shoulder. Blair blinked up through wet lashes, her hands sliding down his face.

"I'll _fix _you," Blair finally whispered. His fingers dug into soft skin as he cupped the nape of her neck, dragging patterns across the hairs there.

And then, "I'm alone."

A beat. A breath. "Not anymore."

It was then that they fell to the floor, her hands pulling at his collar, his cupping her ass, hitching her to him. He breathed her in for a moment, a wave of feeling dropping down upon him. He wouldn't recognize it, of course. He was Chuck Bass, and the things that brought the hearts of others to a short stop flew right by the bricks that guarded his. But this – _this _was the moment he held his breath until Blair drew one of her own. It was the moment he clung to her like a captive to a cliff. It was the moment he began to need Blair Waldorf – something he had so skillfully dodged for the entirety of his life.

But he couldn't avoid something he'd never felt before. He wouldn't recognize it if it hit him square in the face.

"Chuck," Blair moaned as he stripped her down, her dress ripped and tangled up in the corner of the room. In a haze, he pulled her plain black lingerie from her skin, sliding it down her legs. His cheek still burned red from Bart's punch, and he was grateful for the darkness, thankful for the delirium that her lips allowed for. Her fingers were frantic as she sought the zipper of his pants, shoved the suit jacket from his shoulders. And then they were bare to each other, her breasts flushed, the hair on his chest brushing her skin. Blair shivered, and he wrapped himself around her, his erection prodding her thigh.

"You feel like…" Chuck's eyes rolled back as her smooth thigh brushed his hip, as her hands tentatively explored his back, touching his ass as she tried to pull him closer. "Like nothing else." Blair writhed underneath him, one hand dropping down to grasp him, rubbing him against her slick folds. Chuck growled then, grabbing hold of her hair in a tight fist to yank her head back. "But when I take you, it will be because of you and me. I will not fuck you to make you forget about them." Blair winced at the word, pushed him onto his back to retaliate his crassness. She was on her knees beside him, legs spread, curls wild around her face. Chuck groaned as she pouted, and he reached out to slip two fingers into her. Blair moaned, nearly sitting on his hand as his fingers fucked her with abandon.

She smiled, an open-mouthed pant escaping her as her hips rolled again and again, her hands finding his chest to steady herself. Her tiny hand slipped down, down to where he throbbed for her, to where his manhood lay hard against his stomach. She hesitated before taking him in her small fist, stroking at her leisure just to torture him.

"Blair," Chuck growled. "_Faster_."

Blair smiled, bending over to take his fingers deeper inside of her. "No."

"Blair," Chuck repeated in warning, stilling his fingers much to Blair's dismay. He began to slip away from her, and she mewled, sinking down. "Now." Of course, she obeyed him, her hand meeting the thrust of his hips. She bent to kiss his chest, brazenly tugging his skin between her teeth. Chuck groaned at the sensation, at the sight of her tight little ass in the air. Whimpers that couldn't possibly be his own filled the room.

And then it was a race to the finish, as they fought to please each other. His hand brushed the underside of her ass as his fingers sank into her core, slipping from the wetness that gushed from her. Blair met his thrusts with strokes of her own, swiping a finger over the head of him as her kisses descended to his waist.

"_Fuck_."

"Yes, _yes_."

"That's right, Blair. Just like that."

"Chuck!"

And then the world ended for a moment. Her nails scratched, a raw shout broke from his lips. He pulled her down, holding her as she shuddered, digging his face into her hair as his seed spilled over her hand and onto his stomach. She whimpered and spasmed, he shook and pulled, and together they fell into the night.

Together, they pushed the rest of the world away.

:::

Blair awoke hours later in an unfamiliar bed, draped in a tangle of towels, robes, and bed sheets. Her hair was still slightly damp, falling in loose waves around her face. She rubbed her eyes, shifting back when she realized that an arm was draped across her waist, fingers skimming the skin of her bare stomach. _Oh_. She blinked as Chuck dug his face into her hair, murmuring in his sleep. She let out a breath before turning in his arms until she could see him, his features twisted into an adorably sleepy frown as he peered back at her.

"Waldorf," Chuck huffed, his voice groggy. He pulled her up against him, tucking his face into her chest as Blair let out a breathless giggle. She tentatively reached out to pull a hand through his messy hair.

"Bass," Blair whispered. She meant it to be cocky and challenging. But her voice came out as a soft murmur, as if they were two lovers whispering sweet nothings to each other on the morning…_after_. Blair shook her head as Chuck trailed kisses across her shoulder. But that wasn't them.

"Jesus," Chuck finally murmured, pulling away from her. He pulled Blair into the crook of his arm as he reached for the phone on his nightstand. "What time is it?" She watched as he scrolled through text messages, her eyes trailing to the pensive look on his face. Blair gasped when she noticed the purple bruise blossoming just under his eye. It was a cacophony of violets and indigos, a portrait of the perfect storm marring his skin. She reached up, her fingers hovering just above the bruise as Chuck tensed under her, casting a glance in warning.

"Your face."

"Don't, Blair."

"But – "

"_Blair_."

"Fine," Blair hissed, sitting up in bed. Chuck rolled his eyes as she shifted to the far end of the bed, wrapping the sheets around herself, draping them over her shoulders. She paused for a moment, glancing around the room before narrowing her eyes at him. "How many girls have you had here?"

Chuck smirked, glancing back at his phone. "You want me to count?" Blair parted her lips, blood rushing to her cheeks as a wave of jealousy washed over her. But Chuck cut her off just in time. "Only one that mattered."

Blair relaxed, biting her lip. "Oh."

"Yeah, Ivanka Trump was really some – " Before he could finish his taunting, his face was hit by a thick white pillow, smothering his words. He laughed, grasping Blair's waist as she hovered over him, her plush weapon still in her hands.

"You're terrible," Blair pouted. "And I hate you." Chuck laughed, smoothing out her crinkled features with his fingertips before capturing her wrists. He tugged her down to him, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her chin, to one rosy cheek. Blair stared down at him. "What are you doing?"

"You don't hate me, Waldorf," was all he said, releasing her arms and letting her slump down onto the bed beside him. "At least," he smirked, reaching out to squeeze her thigh. "You didn't earlier."

"You just enjoy torturing me," Blair sighed. Her hair fanned out across his pillow, the sheets tangling across her body in the most delicious way Chuck had ever seen. She stared up at the ceiling, eyelashes batting as she tugged her lip between her teeth. "It's Thanksgiving today."

Chuck blinked, unmoved. "Fantastic," he deadpanned. "I can barely contain my excitement."

"_Chuck_." Blair ran her fingers through her hair. "It's my favorite holiday. Before Daddy decided to hightail it out of Manhattan and gallivant all over Southern France with his little – " Blair grimaced. " – boy-toy, we used to set the table with all of these fabulous gourmet dishes and champagne. And then Daddy and I would make the pumpkin pie."

At this, Chuck raised his eyebrows. "_You _made pie."

Blair rolled her eyes at him. "I can be domestic."

Chuck laughed, reaching under the sheets and placing a warm hand on her stomach. "Now, I'd love to see that." Blair smiled softly, surprisingly comforted by his touch. If they were any other pair, they'd have a chance at some version of normality. But instead, a bruise tainted his skin, her dress laid tattered and ripped on the floor, and their own words taunted them like a silent mantra.

_I won't love you. _

_I won't love anyone._

They would never be normal.

"I can't go back to that freakshow," Blair spat, her eyes going almost black. "I can't do it. Not this year." Blair felt a lump in her throat when she thought of her mother being relieved at her absence, at exchanging false niceties with the van der Woodsens. Although she loved Eric, she couldn't bear the thought of it. She cast a glance at Chuck, who was regarding her curiously. "Whatever. Retail therapy has always been my forte. I'll go to Bendels or Barneys…or...I'm sure that you have other things to attend to." Instead of answering her, Chuck just nodded and turned away, reaching for the suite's phone. Blair's heart sank, her chin dropping at his rejection. She gathered the bit of pride she could muster up and slowly slid off the bed.

"Waldorf," Chuck said, grabbing her wrist and tugging her back. "Sit." Blair frowned, narrowing her eyes as he dropped her arm and spoke into the phone. "Yes, Philippe. Have the kitchen send up its entire menu and put it on my father's tab." Blair's eyes widened as he went on. "But send up the pie unmade."

:::

"I didn't sign up for this."

"Bass, you have to help me." Blair pouted, bouncing on his lap as she filled the piecrust with bits of the pumpkin mixture the kitchen staff had provided. Chuck held her waist, stilling her movements as they sat at his bar.

"I don't _have_ to do anything, Waldorf," Chuck argued. "For me, Thanksgiving is a spectator's sport."

"You don't get to eat the turkey until you help me with the pie," Blair bargained. Chuck rolled his eyes, pinching her side as she squealed, sending a bit of pumpkin onto the counter, splattering it all over her face. "_You _are going to pay for that."

Chuck smirked. "Yeah? I'm quite fond of your punishments."

"I give up," Blair huffed, pulling away from Chuck. "You're smarmy and incorrigible, and I'll never be caught dead trying to make a meal for you again." Chuck laughed at her pout, swiping a bit of the pumpkin from the bowl in front of him on one finger. He beckoned her over, tilting her chin up with his other hand, sliding his finger into her mouth. He groaned when her lips wrapped around his finger, sucking the sweetness from his skin. His finger went further and further, and she let out a surprised cough when he hit the back of her throat. Her eyes rolled back as his finger came in and out, his eyes intent on her lips, his other hand holding her face up. Finally, he pulled away, smirking as a stunned Blair touched her own lips.

"You're trying to ruin me," Blair accused, taking a spoonful of stuffing.

"I've already ruined you," Chuck said. She rolled her eyes, nudging his arm, but the playfulness was gone from his face, and his tone was dead. His eyes darkened before they cleared, and he grinned at her, flicking a bit of cranberry sauce onto her nose. Blair startled, the bitch in her arising as she swiped the red from her skin. She lifted a pot of gravy and took a step toward Chuck.

"You're going to regret that, Bass."

:::

_November 22nd, 2007: The Tribeca Grand Hotel, Church Bar_

Three hours after the undignified food fight had ensued, and Chuck had happily washed the cranberries from a furious Blair's hair, Blair found herself on the other end of Manhattan, stepping into The Tribeca's cool lobby in a mint dress she'd had Dorota send over. She clutched Chuck's jacket around her shoulders as she stepped into the bar, immediately spotting the leggy blonde at one of the stools. Blair braced herself before sitting down.

"Thank you…for meeting me," Serena murmured, shooting Blair a hesitant smile. It was not returned.

"Why aren't you with Lily and Eric?" Blair asked, her eyes dead of emotion. Before Serena could answer, Blair ordered a gin and tonic from the bar, setting a crisp twenty on the counter.

"We had an early dinner," Serena explained, ordering a cocktail for herself. "I told them how important it was for me to see you before you went back."

"Right." Blair smirked, shaking her head. "I suppose that's what a guilty conscience will do to you."

"B…" Serena reached out to touch Blair's arm, but Blair pulled away just in time.

"_Don't_," Blair spat, taking her drink from the passing bartender. She sipped it carefully, taking a gulp of liquid courage before glancing up at Serena. "Only my friends get to call me that." Serena winced at being officially demoted in Blair's life. She looked down at her lap, tugging a lock of blonde hair.

"So, we're not friends," Serena said, her voice smaller than Blair had ever heard before. Blair shook her head, momentarily distracted by the phone chiming in her purse. She smiled down at the screen as texts came filtering in.

_OMG. I need your royal advisement, your highness. ;) When will you be back at Briar? Text me! – D_

_Hey, B. So sorry about my dork brother. See you back at school? – J_

_So, Ethan Merrick just called me. Ethan. Merrick. Any idea who gave him my number? You're not as slick as you think you are, B. – Eric _

Blair let out a sharp laugh, feeling a pang in her chest for the first time since she'd left the Upper East Side.

She missed Briar. She _actually _missed Briar. She craved her center table, sitting at the head with Chuck as they endlessly argued with each other whilst shamelessly flirting. She wanted Jenny nodding at her every word, Diana snorting with laughter as she snuck them all vodka into their morning orange juice as Eric shook his head at them all. Blair looked up at Serena in wonderment, her lips cracking into a smile. "Serena, _I don't live here anymore_."

The blonde frowned. "What?"

"I always thought…that I had everything here. I always thought you were trying to take it away from me," Blair murmured. "But _this _is untouchable. Briar is mine."

"So is the Upper East Side," Serena reasoned. "You're the Queen B…"

"No," Blair said, getting up from her seat. "No. Maybe in the future, when we're older and it's easier to be your friend, when high school isn't a battlefield and my mother doesn't wish that she'd had you instead. Maybe then we can go back to being S and B." Blair let out a breath. "But right now…I'm done here. I'm going home."

"Alone?" Serena swallowed, her voice confused and desperate. "But Eleanor isn't around and – "

"No," Blair cut in, eyes wandering to the limo parked outside, where her suitcases were loaded into the trunk and Chuck Bass teasingly leered at her though the opened window of the backseat. Where Arthur had strict directions to take them back to Briar. "I'm going _home_."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hi guys! *Pokes out from behind the rock I'm currently hiding behind* I am super nervous about putting this out there because it's my longest chapter yet, and I've been working on this part of the plot for days, hoping to figure out exactly what I wanted from this chapter. So...there it goes. Thank you so much for your amazing reviews and support. There is no way I'd be motivated to get to that kind of word count without you guys. You're all just so awesome. And as always, let me know what you think.


	7. Snap, Sizzle, Burn

**Chapter Seven: Snap, Sizzle, Burn**

_Don't make me sad, don't make me cry._

_Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough, and I don't know why. _

_Keep making me laugh, let's go get high. _

_The road is long, we carry on, try to have fun in the meantime._

**- Born to Die by Lana Del Rey.**

:::

_November 30__th__, 2007: The Back Woods_

"I solemnly entrust my loyalty to the Victors and Victrolas of The Briar House. In schemes and secrecy, in blood and honor. We are saints, we are sinners. We are brothers and sisters. If one lights a flame, we will burn together. We will never be tame, we will burn forever." Blair held Chuck's gaze as she repeated the words under the dewy glow of candlelight and lanterns. He smiled at her, and her chest lifted at his approval. They were in the back woods, the expanse of gnarly trees and shrubbery behind the aged school building. A rickety, abandoned shed had transformed into a dark, makeshift club, it's room scented with incense and fine whiskey, it's walls draped in black silk. Once upon a time, she might have thought this silly – secret initiations and whispered pledges. But the thrill of danger heightened every one of her senses, shot a high up to her brain as the low light hit the edge of Chuck's jaw.

"Drink," Chuck insisted, raising the goblet of red wine to her bottom lip. Blair slipped out her tongue, her eyes closing as the alcohol poured into her mouth. Chuck grinned, relishing the sight, giving her more, and then even more as he held her chin. For a moment, they forgot the rest of the room, Diana and Jenny on either side of Blair in short black dresses. Ethan and Damien were present, as were the rest of Penelope's ex-army. But they answered to Blair now.

_Blair and Chuck._

Chuck's hand surfaced with a glittering gold pin, Damien carrying a small bowl beside him. Chuck meant to prick her skin with it, and the thought made her tense. Her nerves betrayed her cool exterior, and he frowned for a moment, holding her dainty little hand in his. Blair swallowed as he shook his head at her, a silent assurance, and when the pin descended, she waited for the sharp pain – but it never came. Blair recoiled, confused by the blood that fell into the bowl, blood that was not her own. Chuck hid the cut on his own finger from the rest of the room and silenced her with a warning glance. Blair nodded back, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Welcome," Chuck whispered, his head ducking right beside hers. His lips brushed her jaw, his teeth slid across her neck, and Blair stifled the embarrassing moan bubbling in her throat. Instead of kissing her, he simply blew out the dwindling candle in her hands before moving on to Diana, who was next in line. The two boys continued down the row, blowing out candles until the room faded to black. Blair let out a breath as Diana and Jenny impulsively grasped her hands. They could see nothing but shadows in the dark shed, and the girls clung to each other as if they were three sisters. And in an odd, twisted way, Blair supposed they were.

"Now enough business," came a voice in the darkness. Chuck's voice. "It's time for pure," A haze of smoke filled the room, an entrancing beat thumped in the air. "Unadulterated" A drink fell into Blair's hand, and Diana began to dance to the music, twirling beside her. "Pleasure." Blair gasped as the small crowd of students engulfed her. The air felt dirty, the air felt surprisingly _good_ as hands passed over her, as she allowed her own hips to sway from side to side. She could manage this. She could be like Serena - dancing on tables at the Tribeca, stripping down to her underwear in Chuck's old Jacuzzi.

Speaking of, Blair felt a tug of disappointment when she lost Chuck in the small crowd. Her cheeks flushed with jealousy as she thought of the other writhing girls in the room, of where his hands would wander in a haze of intoxication and darkness. She was just about to seek him out when she felt hands on her arms, pulling her back into a broad chest.

"Dance with me, beautiful," Ethan slurred. Blair turned in his grasp, amused by the vacant look in his eyes, the blonde hair damp on his forehead. "This night…this night is _epic_." His voice could be heard above the music as he busted out with spastic dance moves, spinning Blair around him.

"You are _so _drunk," Blair scolded, allowing him to lead her for a few more minutes before placing a hand on his chest to steady him.

"I only had – " Ethan raised his fingers, frowning as he silently counted. "I only had one drink." Ethan held up three fingers as he said it, and Blair rolled her eyes. "Tonight is the night, Blair. Tonight is…this is it." He was nearly incoherent as he pumped his fist in the air, sloppily smiling down at Blair.

"Tonight?" Blair sighed. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm going to tell Eric," Ethan started, his tone suddenly solemn and determined. Blair's eyes widened, and she urged him to lower his voice. It wasn't commonly known that Ethan swung the other way, and she had a feeling that sober Ethan wouldn't be shouting it out at exclusive parties. "I'm telling him that I love him. I'm in love with him."

"Okay, shut up," Blair hissed, a splash of decency urging her to take action.

"He's so smart, Blair," Ethan practically swooned. Blair blanched at the stars in his eyes, hoisting him over to the corner of the room. He held Blair's waist as his head lolled over, a lazy grin lighting up his face. "I'm popular, and he doesn't care. Isn't that…isn't that _cool_?"

Blair pushed his arms off of her. "Yeah, really _cool_," she deadpanned, shouting over the music. Ethan mumbled Eric's name again and again as Blair snapped her fingers in his face, shaking at his shoulder. "Listen, Merrick. You're going to sober up _now_. I'm not going to play your designated babysitter all night. Honestly, you sound like a tipsy schoolgirl."

"You're so sweet, Blair," Ethan laughed, stroking her cheek. Blair slapped his hand away, which only encouraged him to squeeze the tip of her nose. Blair seethed, slapping him again and giving a sharp and impatient twist to his wrist.

"Stop it, or I'll hurt you," Blair spat, jerking his chin up. "Now try to hold in your little love confessional while I go get you some water. Okay?" Blair jerked his chin up again as he dozed off. "_Okay_?"

Ethan grinned, looking much like a young boy as he squished Blair's cheeks together. "Yes, Captain Waldorf." Blair slid his hands from her face, propping him against the wall as she made her way back through the crowd. _God_, he was like Serena in male form. Playing Mommy was getting exhausting. She scanned the room, squinting in the darkness until she laid eyes on a cluster of abandoned water bottles on a stray table. She squeezed her way past grinding, drinking bodies, relieved when she grabbed one of the bottles in her hand.

"Having fun?" The voice startled her, as it was so close to her ear. Fingers wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against the back wall. Blair dropped the bottle in her hands as Chuck's lips fell to her neck, his hands anchored gruffly on her tiny waist. "Having fun with…Ethan?" Blair scoffed, ready to correct him on Ethan's sexual orientation until she remembered… _If seeing you with me gets on Chuck's nerves, let it._ Blair recognized the jealousy in his voice like it was a learned language.

"Maybe," Blair murmured. Chuck's grip on her tightened, and he pulled her hips to his as the bass dropped and the room spun. "Maybe you should get a handle on that jealous streak of yours." The fury that passed over Chuck's features frightened her for a moment. Her stance stumbled, and she held onto his arms for support. But just as quickly as his anger came, it went. She expected him to make some snarky comment about Ethan. But instead, he simply grinned.

"Afraid of the dark?"

"I'm Blair Waldorf," she scoffed. "I'm not afraid of anything." Another lie. Blair was _terrified_. Terrified of the way his touch lit her skin aflame, petrified when a simple glance from him sent her guarded heart astray. If he was fire, she was a pyromaniac. And to love the blaze was to get burned. The smirk on his face faded to parted lips when she dropped to kiss his neck, nibbling and sucking on the skin just below his ear. She worked his skin between her teeth, moaning when his hand raised to hold her head there. But she pulled back to admire her work anyway, gingerly touching the bruised patch on his neck. When she glanced up, Chuck's eyes were nearly black. He reached behind him and took a glass in his hands, drinking it down. And then he kissed her, a harsh mix of hard liquors pouring from his mouth and into hers.

She was drowning.

And she loved it.

Once her lips swelled and her head was numb, he held her back, guiding her face back into the crease of his neck. And over the thump of the music, she heard his voice in her ear. She heard his voice _everywhere_ saying, "Again."

:::

Hours after the liquor faded away and the excitement of the night died along with it, the tipsy group trickled out of the abandoned shed in teams of two, daring not even to rustle the grass out by the fields as they snuck into their pre-discussed secret entrances. Damien, whose eyes had been clouded over since break had ceased, led a weary Jenny back in through the cellar underneath the cafeteria. Diana watched on for a moment, wishing she was too drunk to care, before pulling Ethan's arm around her shoulders, poking at his side to get him into the broken door behind the pool house. The rest of the gang followed suit, leaving two brunettes behind, shadowed by the shed. Chuck stared down at the black fabric straining over Blair's body in the darkness. He held her hips, his thumbs skimming her waist as she tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. Her eyes were bright, her limbs loosened. A bit of alcohol did wondrous things to the reckless girl hiding below stacks of SAT scores and term papers.

And it turned Chuck on to no end.

"Come on," he whispered to her, slamming a padlock shut on the shed before pulling her into the night. Chuck ignored the fact that she wasn't that drunk at all. He didn't _need _to take care of her. But he ignored that too. Her fingers held tightly to his as he pulled her through the little alley where he liked to smoke between classes, up stairs that were much too out of the way to be used. Blair clung onto him, and he wavered. _Chuck Bass _wavered, completely intoxicated by her perfume and the way the alcohol kissed her sweet breath. Instead of turning into Dexter Hall to return her to her room, Blair frowned as Chuck ducked into Wentworth – the boy's dormitories.

"Bass," Blair hissed, wincing as her slight slur broke the silence around her. "What are you doing?" Chuck hushed her with an admonishing stare, pulling her past a neat row of blue doors. It was when they came to the end of the hall that he stopped, and she steadied herself with a hand on his back. Blair expected the door to be opened and unlocked, just as most of the rooms were at Briar. But Chuck's hand surfaced from his blazer pocket with a brass key that fit right into the knob before them. She followed him inside as he casually flicked the light on, revealing the mod yet sinister décor before her. It was a dignified bachelor pad, way out of place in a rustic boarding school like theirs. A king-sized bed was pushed up against the farthest wall, its comforter and pillows a deep noir. Beside it was a wooden nightstand, a dark lampshade that did little for lighting. And on the other side of the room, beside closed closet doors, was a black leather chaise that took up much of the space. Blair let out a shocked breath and shook her head. "Of _course _you have your own room."

"I'm Chuck Bass," he said by way of explanation, a smarmy grin upon his lips. Blair rolled her eyes at him, remaining stationed in front of the door, her hand poised on the knob behind her. Chuck, on the other hand, was already loosening the casual tie slung around his neck, kicking off the dress shoes he'd worn for initiation. He glanced up at her while tugging at the buttons near his wrists. "Do you plan on standing there all night?"

"All night?" Blair echoed, nearly stamping her foot. "Chuck." He looked up again, amused by her frustration as she repeated the words. "_All night_?"

"Waldorf," Chuck drawled, walking over to her in a slow saunter. "Why don't you kill the teacher's pet act and take a seat. Tomorrow is Sunday. You can get off on studying later. So stop _whining_ and relax." Despite the hostility on her face, she allowed him to pull her over to his bed and push her down on the plush duvet. _God_, that was comfortable. She sat before him, her hands in her lap, her eyes trained on his as he stared down at her. She shuddered as the pads of his thumb traced her collar, sliding the straps of her dress from weak shoulders. He peeled the silk from her, rolling it down to pool at her waist. And then his lips were on the flat of her stomach, his tongue tracing just above her ribs. He savored her for a moment, waiting until she drew a low moan to pull away.

"I don't want you to…" Chuck trailed off, his eyes darkening. "You're not going to hurt yourself again." He pressed lightly into her stomach as he spoke, and Blair lost her breath. "If I find out that you have, I won't stop. You won't hear the end of it. I'll make your life a living hell." Blair scoffed at the thought of Chuck having that power over her. But he didn't look domineering or arrogant. His eyes appeared honest, his face solemn. It was a twisted way of proclaiming his rumpled emotions. And that was even worse.

Blair narrowed her eyes. "Why do you care?" To this, he said nothing. His stare held firm, his hold even firmer. It was Blair who reluctantly backed down first, her shoulders falling slightly. "I haven't. Not since the Homecoming Ball." She expected him to react, waited for him to claim credit for her recovery. But all he did was pull the dress off of her completely, sliding her heels off until they clanked on the hardwood. She shivered in her bra and thin panties as he left her, ducking into his closet and surfacing with a worn dress shirt. Blair watched him as he put it on her, buttoning just below the dip of her cleavage, down to her bellybutton. And when he was done, he pressed a last reverent kiss just under her chin.

Maybe it was the simple gesture of it that forced Blair's blood to rush under her skin, that uncapped the Blair Waldorf from her pre-teen years with harlequin romance novels hidden under pretty pink bed sheets. She took hold of his collar and met him in a searing kiss – no space to breathe, no room to feel anything but _this_. He groaned and she whimpered. Together they fell back onto the sheets, feeling empty when they pulled away, lying beside each other. Chuck's heart stuttered when Blair rolled into his side and her head fell to his chest.

Cuddling.

They were _cuddling_.

"I want to know," Blair began, treading with caution. "I want to know what broke you. I want to know why you stop yourself from laughing like you're not allowed to be happy. I want to know why you drink more than anyone I've ever known, but you're never _ever _drunk."

"Blair – "

"I want to know what there was before – " Blair gestured to the boy before her. "This."

Chuck stared up at the ceiling, his eyes stony. "There was nothing before this."

"You're lying," Blair accused, forcing his chin down. But Chuck simply shook his head, frustrating her beyond belief.

"I'm not lying."

"You are," Blair argued. "Tell me, Chuck."

"Why?" Chuck choked out, almost exasperated. His eyes were wide, his lower lip holding a slight tremble. She reached out to touch it, to soothe him, but he pulled away from her the minute her finger made contact, leaving her hand hanging in the air. Already she could see their makeshift, broken agreement – the one they'd made on the fields nearly two months ago – ripping apart. And not even the pieces of it resembled the two cold-hearted kids who'd begun this madness.

"Tell me about your mother." The words resounded in the room, hitting the silence in a full-blown collision. Blair shrank back as Chuck physical jerked up in bed, his back to her as he leaned up on his knees. She wondered if this would be the end, the moment the game was forfeited, if she was suddenly disqualified. She waited, waited, waited –

"My mother was alive," Chuck rasped. "I was born. And now she's dead."

"Don't you have anything of hers?" Blair asked, sitting up on her elbows. "Isn't there anything to…" As Blair trailed off, Chuck's mind flitted to tattered photographs, hair like tarnished gold, eyes as warm as the sun. He thought of his first memory, Bart holding the photograph, Chuck holding his own heart. _You look like her. _It was all his father said before the room fell to pieces.

But that – It wasn't the only thing. Chuck glanced at his shelves, where one hardback was tucked behind the rest.

"A book," Chuck murmured, not bothering to look back at her. Blair bit her lip at the admission, following his gaze to the bookshelf in the corner. But it was much too dark to see, and it could have been any one of them.

"What book?"

Silence.

"Chuck?" Blair touched his back. "What book?"

More silence.

Blair held her breath in a silent surrender, laying her head back against the pillows in defeat. She counted three breaths, six short heartbeats until he joined her, his arm pressed against hers, his knuckles brushing the back of her hand. It took more to thaw out the man of stone beside her, a kiss on the curve of his neck, a hand on his chest, the end of their desperate conversation. Her eyes forced closed under the weight of exhaustion. And she didn't know exactly if she was dreaming or if she was awake. He might've pulled her closer then, might've kissed her hair, might've whispered something against her forehead, only to have it lost on unhearing ears.

"You're under my skin."

:::

_December 1__st__, 2007: The Briar Dining Hall_

"God, look at them. Think they're hungover?"

"I heard it was an orgy."

"You're just jealous."

The demure group of freshmen huddled in their corner table of the cafeteria, their hushed whispers blending into the usual symphony of school gossip. They watched on as Blair and Diana mulled it to their center table, arms linked, steps in unison. Jenny trailed behind them, scrolling through her phone with a slant in her brows. Ethan was already sitting when they got there, his blonde hair even more rumpled than usual, his eyes completely bloodshot. Diana swung into the chair next to him, ruffling his hair with a light laugh. Blair shot him a shaming glare before gently sitting on the other side of the table. She'd woken up alone that morning, after the initiation. Chuck had left her to fend for herself in the boy's dormitories, still in last night's dress and last night's regrets. She'd called Diana, who was well-used to finagling her way around Briar's male population. She came bearing a rescue outfit, and they snuck behind the infamous back stairwell together to catch breakfast.

Blair was groggy, sloppy, and highly unhappy. And, of course, it was all a direct product of Chuck Bass.

"Well, don't you all look cheerful?" Eric called, setting his tray down with a loud clank. The rest of them groaned, Blair included, as he happily sat down at the table. Eric was more than happy to play a guest role in their popularity, coming and going as he pleased. It was Eric that most on the outside were jealous of. He had a glimpse of their life, a taste of it – wading without the fear of drowning. And now he was glancing up at Ethan, whose appearance had brightened the moment Eric sat down.

"Hey," Ethan murmured, calming his tone. "Can we talk?"

"We did talk," Eric said, a small grin on his face. "When you drunk dialed me last night. When you sent me random text messages over break. But not when you ignored me the minute we got back to Briar." Ethan froze, his lopsided grin fading as he glanced over at the girls. But Diana, Jenny, and Blair were too immersed in their own conversation to notice. Eric watched him with a shake of his head. "Nobody even knows that you're…" He paused, not bothering to say the word. "Do they?"

"I…" Ethan trailed off, lowering his voice. "Blair knows."

"Well, we have that in common," Eric smirked. "Coming out to Blair Waldorf."

"Look…" Ethan practically whispered, stretching out over the table. He stole a tiny piece of bacon from Eric's plate to lighten the mood. Eric cracked a smile, waiting for him to go on. "You've been my Trig tutor for weeks, putting up with my lame jokes and sports recaps, and I've never talked to anyone the way I talk to you. You know…that I _like _you."

Eric shook his head again, ducking his head to hide his smile. "I also know that I'm not going to be your secret." Ethan parted his lips to protest, but Eric cut him off, running his fingers through the blonde highlights in his hair. "And I'm not going to be your experimental walk on the _queer _side."

"That's not – " Ethan cleared his throat. "That's not what this is, okay? I promise." Eric raised his eyebrows as Ethan reached under the table, poking his pinky at Eric's thigh. Eric reluctantly hooked it through his, shaking once before pulling away. Ethan smiled, clearly satisfied, and straightened his tie. "I just need time."

"Time," Eric repeated.

"Time," Ethan affirmed, a bright smile on his face. As Diana imitated her French teacher for an unamused Blair and a giggling Jenny, Ethan slid his chair closer to Eric's. "I like you, Eric van der Woodsen. I _know _that I do."

Eric swallowed, offering him a gentle grin. "I like – "

"What is it that we like?" Chuck smirked, grabbing Ethan's apple from the table and staking his claim with a loud bite. "Morning, kids." Damien followed him at a sluggish pace. On impulse, his eyes found the chair right beside Diana's, and he sleepily grinned at her familiar blue eyes, the washed glow on her cheeks. But he stopped himself just as he was about to sit down, realizing that Jenny was watching him, paused mid-mouthful. He cleared his throat, pushing away from the chair to join the blonde. Across the table, Chuck bypassed the seat beside Blair to sit at the head of the table. She met him with a hard stare, a frigid one. But he avoided her eyes, hid words behind his grin, and he felt nothing.

"We like _consistency_," Blair spat, slamming her fork down on the table. The rest of them startled, eyeing the two with interest. Chuck swallowed, his posture only faltering for a moment before he managed to look at Blair.

"Careful, Waldorf," Chuck retorted. "You might spill your yogurt." Blair let out a breath as his empty chuckle echoed in her ears and the rest of the table silenced. Blair bit the inside of her cheek, her temper flaring as she looked up at Chuck's content expression. _Smug bastard_. Before she could stop herself, her hand flicked out and slapped the bowl of Chobani over, sending the yogurt flying across Chuck's dress shirt and into his lap. He pushed back from the table, watching in disgust as the strawberry mixture stained his clothes.

"_Fuck_, Blair."

"You're right," Blair said cheekily, gathering her belongings, wrapping her sweater tightly around her shoulders. She shot him one last smile before standing. "I should be more careful." Chuck frowned as she walked off, waiting until she was out of sight before storming off in the other direction, murmuring something about Armani and silk.

"That was bitchy," Damien murmured, breaking the awkward silence at the table. He groaned when Jenny elbowed his side to shut him up. He clutched at his side, throwing a hand up. "_What_? It was."

"Well, he's an asshole," Diana retorted. "Who can't make up his mind." She jerked her hands up, angrily tying her hair into a messy knot. Damien swallowed, realizing that her eyes looked more tired than they'd ever been. They hadn't been alone for a minute since break – and he only had himself to blame. Diana clasped her hands together, leaning over the table. "But you wouldn't know anything about that would you?"

Ethan cleared his throat. "Sorry, did we – "

" – miss something?" Eric finished.

"Apparently," Jenny murmured to them, keeping her gaze on the table. Diana wanted to look at her, wanted to wave the moment away, but she could only think of Damien's hands on her, and the way they talked was just... They were the same. They would always be the same. And so she stared him down, and he matched her, torn between making stop and never wanting to let go.

"Sometimes people get confused," Damien said evenly. "They get lost." His hand slipped from Jenny's under the table.

"Yeah," Diana nodded, an empty expression crossing her features. "And sometimes they get tired." Pink fingernails dug into her own thighs as she said a silent goodbye. For a moment, she forgot that his supposed girlfriend was stationed right beside him, that their friends were watching and waiting. "Sometimes they're done."

:::

_December 7__th__, 2007: The Briar House Gymnasium_

Chuck managed to stealthily avoid Blair for all of seven days – seven long, torturous days – before he snapped in half. He hated this feeling, of being tied so completely, so irrevocably to somebody else. He'd been a part of his mother, he'd come _from _her, and she'd gone before she could teach him how to love, how to feel the things that other people do. Now the pain was written in his bones. And that night, Blair had ripped at a seam, tugged at a loose thread. That could never happen again.

He sat back behind the bleachers as girls milled it to gym class, tennis rackets in hand. Other boys littered the edges of the room, tossing around basketballs and footballs during their free periods. But Chuck, who preferred death over athleticism, merely watched on as Blair surfaced from the girl's locker rooms. He sat up straighter, taking in the stark white tennis skirt twirling around the tops of her thighs, the fitted baby tee that taunted him with the prospect of what could be underneath it. The moment her eyes met his, she looked away, lifting her chin as she passed by.

"Nice skirt, Waldorf," Chuck called. "It leaves so little to my imagination."

Blair stopped in her tracks with an exaggerated sigh. "Oh. He speaks." She kept walking, her hands gripping the handle of her pink racket until her knuckles burned white.

"You ruined my pants."

"Yeah?" Blair smirked, practicing her swing as she took position. "Send me the bill."

Chuck parted his lips to reply, but he was cut off by a burly woman in a bright blue jogging suit. Ms. Harold crossed her arms, blowing her whistle in his face as she blocked his view of Blair. "Mr. Bass, I'll have to ask you to leave if you're going to disturb my class. Are we clear?"

Chuck scoffed at her, cracking his knuckles. "Crystal."

Across the gym, Blair lifted to execute her flawless serve. Just as she poised herself to swing, a catty voice broke her concentration, the smell of a vapid poseur filling the air.

"Trouble in paradise?" Penelope snarked, jerking her head over at Chuck. Blair jumped, hitting the ball with the edge of her racket, sending it flying across the room, near the exit. Blair frowned, letting out a quick breath before she turned to face her opponent. Penelope stood before her in high-heeled sneakers – _so last season_ – and a sloppily pinned ponytail. Blair touched the tail of her own French braid, satisfied that her knock-off had failed to meet her standards yet again.

"Penelope," Blair deadpanned with a bitter smile. "I'd almost forgotten about your existence." Blair took the opposite end of their court, picking up a stray ball as Penelope stood across from her. "But I suppose that even parasites have their lulls." Blair tossed the ball in the air, relishing in the _snap _that sounded across the room when she hit it, enjoying the sight even more when it flew right past Penelope's pathetic stance. "Perhaps you should find a partner you can keep up with."

"Perhaps you should find a boyfriend who actually _wants _to be with you," Penelope smirked, snatching the ball from the ground. Blair met every hit with one of her own, swinging the racket so hard she thought her arm might snap off. But she was relentless, refusing to miss one serve. Penelope was also relentless – refusing to miss one opportunity. "Such a shame that you thought you'd be different. But Chuck cycled you out just like the rest of us." Enraged, Blair dropped her racket and caught the ball in her hand, letting it drop to the floor. As she pretended to reach for it, she yanked at Penelope's ankle, shoving her to the ground.

"You _bitch_," Penelope spat, her hand darting out to yank at Blair's braid.

"Pull all you want," Blair hissed. "You should know what real hair feels like." Penelope's ponytail unraveled in Blair's fingers and, sure enough, a strand of her highlighted extensions fell to the gym floor. Penelope shrieked in protest, pulling harder and –

"Break it up!" Ms. Harold shouted, yanking Penelope up by her elbows. "Break it up _now_. Penelope, to the bench. Blair, take a break. Showers, now."

"But – "

"_Now_."

Blair reluctantly obeyed, patting down the pleats of her skirt as she walked off the court, loosening her braid from its elastic. In her fury, she was vaguely aware of Chuck at her feet, following behind her. "That was quite the show."

"Leave me alone."

"Blair – "

"Leave me _alone_."

She didn't expect him to back off. And, of course, he didn't. Chuck slipped into the girl's locker room behind Blair as Ms. Harold turned her attention to a sullen Penelope by the benches. The room was abandoned in the middle of the period, the sound of every footstep, every breath, completely filling the room. Chuck watched as Blair pulled opened a stall door and ran a shower, just to fill the silence. He watched as she leaned back against the stark white tiles.

"This isn't who I should be," Blair finally said. "This isn't the Blair who Yale wants, who the society women want, who my mother wants."

"Fuck what they want," Chuck said, walking over to her. "Forget who you _should _be." He yanked at the zipper of her skirt, until it fell, and he kicked it to the side. And then he was forcing her arms up, freeing her of her tee. He'd never seen a plain white sports bra or nude boy shorts look better on any other girl. And then he got rid of those too. Blair's tiny tennis sneakers followed, her socks neatly folded into them as she stood beneath the stream of water, cooling her heated skin. Chuck waited for a moment, savoring the sight, memorizing it. Droplets of water fell over her pert breasts, following a clean trail down her navel, disappearing between her legs.

"And what about you, Chuck?" she accused, hugging herself. "What do you want?" In the same moment, his shoes came off, but his clothes stayed on, and he was right beside her in the shower, slamming the stall door shut behind him. Blair gasped against his lips, pulling him closer, but not close enough. A week apart did wonders to the gooseflesh of her skin, on every part he touched her. His fingers splayed out across her back, his lips on her chin, his teeth scraping skin. And then he spun her around, holding her against the wall.

"What are you doing to me?" Chuck rasped, his breath hot on her ear. Blair's eyes crossed as he held her wrists to her back, pressing her cheek to the cold white shower tiles. She was naked, _completely _naked, under the florescent lighting of Briar's locker room, unhidden by the dim glow that had draped over her when she'd visited his room at The Palace back in the city. She flushed, letting out an eager gasp as his hand slipped over the curve of her bottom, his fingers digging into the dimple that met her thigh. "I haven't slept." His hand came up to her hair, pulling her head back. Blair braced herself on the wall. "I feel sick." Blair was hazily aware that he was still wearing clothes under the light pelt of the shower, his hardness strained against his gym shorts, pressing against her ass. "Like there's something in my stomach…_fluttering_." At the word, his hand came around, and he shoved two fingers inside of her, so deep that Blair thought she might bend and break.

"Chuck," she choked out, her sex pressing against the curve of his palm. He held her down, a steady hand on the arch of her back as he pleasured her. Her worked her perfectly, effortlessly, having gotten to know her body very well since the first time he touched her. He knew that she liked her hair pulled a bit – but not _too _hard – that his fingers curled in her sent a moan from her throat, made her toes curl in turn. And he knew that she was a romantic, that under her cool, unfazed exterior was a girl who wanted to be swept off her feet. Chuck could do that. He could forget locking his feelings away and stop dodging her in the hallways.

He _would _do that.

But as he reached up to caress her, Blair had other ideas. She pulled away from him, emitting a slight whimper when his fingers slipped out of her. He looked at her, surprised, as she gingerly hooked her fingers into the waist of his shorts. "Show me, Chuck." Blair swallowed, her eyes betraying her, showing only vulnerability. "I want to…" She bit her lip as she pulled his shorts down a slight inch, not daring to look down. Chuck suppressed a groan. The whole thing, this innocence, this honesty, was ten times sexier than the mewling harlots who threw themselves at him in his boredom. He knew what this meant to her, asking him how to do this, laying herself bare. She didn't have to tell him she was his. Chuck already knew. And so he kissed her soundly, holding her chin for a moment as his lips only brushed hers. His hands came to her shoulders, following as she knelt down before him. Blair pulled his soaked shorts down, letting them pool under the shower, all while keeping her eyes on him.

"You don't know how good you look right now, Waldorf," Chuck said, cradling the back of her head. "You're…you're flawless." Blair brightened at the admission, finding the courage to look in front of her. And God, he was so…_big_. She hadn't looked, had been too afraid to look, on that night at The Palace. But now she touched him, her finger running over his length, following the path of the startling vein there. He hissed through his teeth, his fingers threading through her hair. "Blair…_please_." Blair licked her lips, delighted to draw a beg from Chuck's lips. And the way he looked at her – she felt beautiful.

She pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the head of his member, her tongue tasting his essence. He groaned, murmuring a low _fuck _as he urged her on. She smiled before she wrapped her lips around him, sucking slowly, savoring the taste of him. He let her find her own rhythm as she flattened her tongue against his base, closing her eyes at the sensation of having him in her mouth. When she opened them again, she found his eyes closed, his lips parted as he drew her name from under heavy breaths. She pulled back, running her tongue over him for a moment as she blinked up at him.

"You taste so good, Chuck," Blair whispered. Talking dirty wasn't exactly her forte – it was something she usually left to Chuck during their trysts. But the reaction it drew from him made her reconsider. His eyes widened, then rolled back. His grip on her hair tightened, and he pushed down until he hit the back of her throat. Blair panicked for a moment, her eyes tearing, her hands gripping his thighs for balance.

"Relax," Chuck rasped, the pad of his thumb finding her cheek as he slid deeper. "Just…" Blair did as she was told, and he nearly cried out at the feeling of her throat constricting around his cock as she swallowed. "That's perfect. You're…" He choked off as they found a new rhythm, Chuck working her gently, steadily, Blair eager to follow. And then she heard, "Touch yourself, Blair."

Blair pulled back fully, her eyes wide. "_What_?"

"I told you to touch yourself," Chuck repeated. "I want to see you." She stroked him as he spoke, suddenly shy as she glanced down at herself.

"I can't…"

"You can," Chuck insisted. "Trust me, Blair." Blair shivered at the command, her mouth wrapping around him once again, her small hand reaching between her legs. Chuck angled her head to the side, watching her pleasure herself as she took him in her mouth. The sight was delicious, decadent, more than Chuck deserved after keeping her away for a week. He didn't think it could get any better. And then she pressed down, sucking harder, allowing him to hit the back of her throat. She mewled around him, one of her fingers sinking inside of her, and Chuck bowed forward, holding her down against him as his yell echoed around the tiny stall. "Fuck, Blair. _Fuck_." She swallowed what he gave her, working herself into her own release with her eyes shut tight. He broke, and she broke too, her senses heightened and her vision danced.

And she felt more accomplished than she'd ever been.

When it was over, he sank down to his knees in front of her, pulling her flush against him. Blair waited in silence for a moment, already cursing herself for the question that escaped her lips. "Was I…okay?"

"You were perfect, Blair," Chuck said, setting his head back against the tiles. "You were amazing." Blair smiled, a small yawn escaping her lips. It was adorable, and it warmed Chuck in a way that had made him avoid her in the first place. But his legs were tired, his heart too comfortable, and he forgot where he was, tucking his chin into her damp hair as her nose skimmed the curve of his neck. And they stayed that way until noise burst into the lockers, chattering teenaged girls just finished with gym class. Blair slapped at him to _get out_, and Chuck teased her, raising his voice, threatening to give them away. Blair slapped him again, fighting her laugh until he ducked out of the showers, saluting a horrified freshman before heading to the boy's locker room.

And then Blair let the water run over herself for fifteen long minutes, trying to remember when exactly she tripped.

And began to fall for Chuck Bass.

:::

_December 9__th__, 2007: The Briar Pool House_

"I can't believe you dragged me into this," Eric groaned in a low whisper as Blair pulled him into the alleyway near the pool house. The campus was quiet, and it was well after midnight. It was some sort of tradition among the Victors and Victrolas, breaking into the pool as a rite of passage. Blair held a wrap around her shoulders, her red bikini hiding underneath. She frowned at herself as she got lost in imagining Chuck's face when he saw her. Instead, she snapped at a reluctant Eric in the darkness.

"As if you're really so torn up about seeing your boyfriend all wet in a swimsuit," Blair smirked. "You two are disgustingly…perky together." Eric smiled as they reached the back door of the pool house, the frosted glass on one wall revealing a glow of lights on the other side, a row of bikinis and swim trunks, tipsy laughter and silenced squealing. Blair smiled, flicking her hair back. "Ready?"

"Blair…" Eric trailed off. "This isn't my thing. I'm not one of you."

"Eric," Blair hissed, cutting him off. "You're my friend. And as your friend, I won't allow you to sit in your room, swooning over your boy-toy while you could be having fun." She paused, relaxing. "You've always been like a little brother to me. Whatever I am, you are too. Okay?"

Eric smiled, lightly nudging her side. "Careful, Blair. Your sweet side is showing. You might want to cover it up."

"Ugh," Blair groaned, wrinkling her nose as she remembered Ethan's exact words when he'd first told her that he liked Eric. _You're not the bitch you pretend to be. You do nice things all of the time, when you think people don't notice._ "You're more like your boyfriend than you think."

Together, Blair and Eric pushed into the pool house, where the hushed party was in full swing. Only a second passed before a drink fell into Blair's hand and her wrap was stripped from her shoulders. Chuck shamelessly hung an arm around her waist and dropped his lips to her ear. "You look ravishing," he practically growled, sending shivers up her spine. Blair flushed, falling into his touch.

Beside them, Eric blanched, turning away from the obvious love-fest that was unfolding before him. His sandaled feet padded against the wet tiles, careful not to be shoved into the pool by a drunk upperclassman. He passed by Damien, who clapped him on the back with a lit joint in his other hand. Eric nodded at him, realizing that he was far from both Jenny and Diana, who were in the pool in front of them. He continued on, his eye catching a familiar wave of blonde hair atop the lifeguard chair. His heart lifted when he saw Ethan staring back at him, a bright smile on his face.

"Hey, you," Eric said, leaning against the red and white post. Ethan turned in his seat, his eyes bright.

"Hey," Ethan replied, losing his position against the armrest before falling over. Eric let out an amused chuckle and steadied him.

"You're sort of drunk," Eric laughed.

"I'm always sort of…" Ethan pouted, "drunk." He glanced up, sitting back in the chair. "And you're always really…_really _hot, Eric van der Woodsen." Eric shook his head, making sure to be discreet as he touched Ethan's arm, trying to pull him down from the chair. But Ethan was having none of it as he squeezed Eric's hand, standing to balance on one of the chair's beams. He swayed back and forth for a moment, his eyes lost to something else as he spoke, "And I'm so tired of being told what to do. I'm tired of hiding this _thing _between us." Ethan raised his voice, catching Blair's attention from across the room. She was in the pool, Chuck stationed behind her, pulling the strings of her bathing suit loose. Blair stilled his hand, frowning at Eric and Ethan as the latter flailed his arms.

"Hey, why don't you get down?" Eric warned, stepping towards Ethan. "Come on, let's go over by the pool and – " His voice cracked as Ethan slipped from the beam, with a shout for help, tripping before falling headfirst towards the pool. There was a sickening _crunch_ as his body hit the water, and a hush fell over the room.

A pause.

A cry.

And Ethan did not surface.

"Oh my God," Blair whispered. "Oh my _God_." She grabbed Chuck's hand as he pulled her from the water, Diana and Jenny running behind them. The rest of the room crowded around, panic heavy in the air, instantly sobering them up. Chuck and Damien dropped their drinks and dove into the water, finding Ethan and lifting him back onto the tiles. Jenny let out a muted cry as Ethan's head lolled to the side, a red, bloody welt on the side of his face. It was Blair who sank down beside Eric, giving Ethan a panicked shake, tears pooling, hands shaking.

"Ethan," she hissed, her voice breaking. "This isn't _funny_. Wake up."

"Blair," Chuck said, stopping her from moving him. Blair pulled away as Chuck pressed two fingers to Ethan's neck, avoiding his rolled-back eyes as he waited for twenty torturous seconds. And then his head fell, the room stilled, the bomb dropped.

"He's not breathing."

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'm terrible, I know! It was a tough week for our favorite Briar students. And even I felt their stress as I was writing! I'm sorry that this was a bit shorter, but hopefully I made up for that with the sudden turn of events here. As always, I want to thank everyone who's been following from the start and has taken the time to give me those lengthy, wondrous, and helpful reviews. It's so awesome to get feedback on what you guys like - it's definitely a great motivation. And thank you to all of the new readers. I have so much love for all of you guys.

So, predictions? Favorite scenes/quotes? I want to hear it all. Are Jenny and Diana finally going to make a decision _for _Damien? And what of poor Eric? Has he lost his boyfriend before he ever really had him? And, of course, Chuck and Blair are at the height of their high...and they might just come crashing down any second. Until next time, guys!


	8. Poisoned Hearts

**Chapter Eight: Poisoned Hearts**

_Funny you're the broken one but I'm the only one who needed saving_

_'Cause when you never see the light it's hard to know which one of us is caving._

_Not really sure how to feel about it – Something in the way you move._

_Makes me feel like I can't live without you._

_It takes me all the way. I want you to stay, stay._

**- Stay by Rihanna.**

:::

_December 10th, 2007: The Briar House Assembly Hall_

"Quite frankly, I'm appalled. We've opened this institution to you, the brightest students in the Northeastern region, as a second home. We've provided you with top-notch guidance, exemplary classes, five-star facilities – lounges, private rooms, a pool house." The headmistress cast them a pointed look, folding her hands tightly together atop the wooden podium in front of her. "But you've thrown it all back in our faces. And now one of our students, one of your colleagues, is strapped to a hospital bed in the ICU, clinging on for dear life because you thought it would be _amusing_ to break into the pool after hours."

Blair swallowed as the headmistress reprimanded them, the huge assembly closing in around the small group sitting in the front row. There were sixteen of them there, lips pressed tightly together as they were lectured. Jenny was nearly trembling as her blue eyes widened with unshed tears. Diana stared down at her nails, picking off a stray inch of polish. Damien ran his fingers through his hair so hard that Blair thought he might yank it out. And Eric – Blair blinked, bile rising in her throat – Eric was sitting as far away from them as possible, his stare boring into the floor.

"Waldorf," Chuck whispered, making her jump in her seat. She felt his breath skim her ear as he continued, "If you don't breathe, you're going to pass out."

Blair shrugged him off, rolling her eyes as she pointedly let out a sharp breath. And then the headmistress continued, "I should expel you all."

Jenny let out a soft whimper as their heads snapped up to attention. Blair froze, her bones constricting into skin. And, for some reason, she reached out for Chuck, her fingers digging into his arm to the point of pain. Chuck raised an eyebrow, prepared to make a lecherous comment on how he knew she liked it rough, but –

The look on her face was one that Chuck had never seen before. She was petrified, her usually calm eyes brightening with wild fear. And from her lips escaped a word so low that only Chuck could hear it. _"Yale_._" _Chuck hesitated before he took her hand, prying her fingers from the sleeve of his blazer. Blair tensed when he dropped it back on her knee, and stayed there – his palm falling over the back of her hand, his fingers twining through hers. There was a pause, a misplaced anchor waiting for its ship to accept. And then she held on, squeezing his hand in the most bizarre moment she'd ever experienced. Chuck didn't know what he was doing, and Blair knew _exactly _what he was doing. But they refused to look at each other, eyes set only on the headmistress as she uttered her verdict.

"But the time, press, paperwork, and inconvenience of expelling sixteen students is not something that satisfies the esteem of this institution. Unfortunately, Ethan Merrick's parents have released a statement to the public, so we already have enough damage control on that front to worry about. Count yourselves lucky that the consequences of your actions won't be as severe as you deserve. You are to be on behavioral probation pending the end of the school year. And you will _all _be writing seven-hundred word letters of apology to the board of Briar House, excusing yourselves for your appalling behavior."

Blair relaxed, nearly slumping against Chuck in her relief. She released his hand, and he cleared his throat, sitting back in his seat comfortably now. They were dismissed with an impatient huff, trickling out in the hallway in a small cluster. Chuck stood at the center of their jagged little circle, his voice low as he leaned in. "Tonight, in the lounge," he said. "We'll discuss a plan of action and worry about how to make this thing go away. We're going to keep quiet about the booze, and we're going to stick to the same story."

"But we can't just…" Jenny trailed off when fifteen glares hit her like daggers. She quieted, glancing at Blair's disapproving frown.

"The _same _story," Blair repeated. The rest of them dispersed, Chuck jerking his head at Blair, motioning to the dark corner at the other end of the hall. Blair nodded, watching him go to wait for her, and then she looked back at the mousy little blonde in front of her. Jenny's face held every fear that Blair felt in the pit of her stomach. And, in the end, that was the only thing that stood between a queen and her court. There were those who were feared and others who were afraid of everything.

But then, maybe Blair had ended up being both.

"I had to lie to my father," Jenny said, her voice in a breathless panic. "Ethan might _die_. Eric won't speak to me or anyone else. I was drinking, and now I'm on _probation_. People are looking at me…whispering in the halls. Blair, you never told me – "

"I did tell you," Blair corrected, her voice as stern as an older sister's would be. "I warned you. If you want to be a part of this world, Jenny, you have to pay a price. When you're on the inside, you're untouchable. But people will talk, and jealousy is poison. They're going to want what you have, even if the diamonds are broken and the Tiffany's clasps don't work." Blair paused. "You just have to decide if all of this is worth it."

"All of this?" Jenny asked, biting her lip. "Getting wasted? Almost getting expelled?"

"Loyalty," Blair said. "It's the opposite of loneliness." Blair glanced at Chuck down the hall. "Don't make me regret everything I saw in you, J." Blair left her there, no longer able to keep her eyes from glistening, her lip from trembling. And when she reached the end of the hall, she fell into waiting arms, Chuck's cologne dancing in the air as he pressed her up against the corner.

"You're okay?" Chuck murmured against her cheek, the concern tasting foreign on his tongue. Blair nodded, and he groaned in approval, kissing the little arch where her chin became the curve of her milky white neck. "And your mother?"

"Still in Singapore with her leech," Blair gasped. "I had Dorota impersonate her over the phone."

Chuck smirked. "Impressive, Waldorf."

"And Bart?"

"They're saving the worst for last, I suppose," Chuck said. As he spoke, he pressed her harder against the wall, his kisses growing more insistent. Blair's purse slipped from her shoulder and hit the floor. "It's the calm before the storm."

"Do you think he'll – "

"The last thing I want to talk about right now is my father," Chuck said. He pulled away, only to run a finger from her lips to her chin, from her chin to her collar. "Why don't we go elsewhere, and do something about the torturous amount of clothes you're wearing?"

"I have class," Blair argued, extricating herself from his grip. "And so do you." Chuck parted his lips to protest, but she silenced him. "Besides, I can't…" Blair took a breath to steady herself. "Eric despises me, and Ethan is in the hospital. And that's not something I can just force myself to forget."

Chuck held on to her for another second before letting her go. "By all means, Waldorf. You wouldn't want to screw up that perfect attendance record of yours."

"Chuck…"

"Go," he insisted, but there was no hostility in his voice. He offered her a half-hearted smile before smoothing out the pleats of her skirt, making sure to brush her bare thigh with his fingertips before sending her on her way. Before making her way over to the corner, Blair swept her hair over one shoulder and glanced back at him.

"Chuck, I wanted to tell you that – " Blair bit down on her lip, and her throat nearly closed in on itself. Chuck waited for her to go on, but she was already retracting, giving a small shake of her head, smiling softly. "Nothing. I'll see you in class." Chuck nodded, half-amused at seeing her so flustered when she walked away and fell back into the stream of students heading to class on the other side of the wall. When she was out of sight, he sank back against the wall, reaching into his blazer for the silver flask he always kept hidden there. Chuck cursed when he shook it, coming up empty.

"Looking for something?" Penelope stood before him, bright red lips curled up as she blocked his exit. Chuck eyed her for a moment, wondering what had possessed him to trail her along for so many months before Blair had arrived. Blair had everything that Penelope was only on the cusp of – power, regal beauty, effortless charm. _He was fucking ruined for every other girl_.

"If I was," Chuck drawled apathetically, "it wouldn't be you."

"Oh, Chuck," Penelope pouted, sidling up beside him. "Have you already forgotten our time together?"

Chuck smirked at her, shifting away. "I'm erasing it from my mind as we speak."

Penelope frowned, her face clouding over in disappointment. But then she was smiling again, her hand adjusting the collar of his blazer. "She's thrown you off your game, you know. Such a shame that Blair Waldorf has turned you into a lovesick little boy."

Chuck tensed, then rolled his eyes. "Don't you have some other failed conquest to lust over?" Chuck straightened himself out and pushed away from the wall. "Your obsession with me has grown tiresome." They both jumped when Chuck's phone sounded in his pocket. He pulled it out, frowning when Bart's name lit up on the screen. He swallowed and shoved past Penelope. But before he could go, Penelope grabbed at his elbow, her nails digging in through his blazer.

"You think you're in control, but you're not, Chuck. The failed party, Ethan's accident…you're choosing her over everything you've worked so hard for." Penelope crept closer as his eyes flamed. "She's your kryptonite. She makes you _weak_." Chuck said nothing as he yanked his arm away from her, bringing the phone to his ear. Penelope smiled to herself, turning to follow after him, but she was stopped by a hand on her wrist.

"_What_ is your fucking problem?" Diana laughed, incredulous. "Don't you get tired of being rejected?"

"That's no way to talk to an old friend," Penelope sniffed, adjusting a pin in her hair.

"It's a good thing you were never a friend, then," Diana smirked.

"And Blair is?" Penelope laughed. "Does she even have a clue about the little tragedy going on between you and Damien? I would have _never _let him go for that blonde knock-off. And you know that."

Diana laughed, blue eyes set on Penelope. "No, you would have screwed me over like you always do. What's going on between Damien and I is none of your business, so stay out of it. Stay out of all of our lives. You're done, Penelope."

"Fine," Penelope huffed. "But you should know that you've been dumped."

Diana rolled her eyes and sighed. "What are you talking about?"

Penelope smiled evenly. "I just saw Damien heading into the theater department with a bouquet of roses in his hands." She tilted her head in faux sympathy. "Looks like he finally made his choice, D."

:::

_December 11th, 2007: The Briar House Theater_

"I thought I'd find you here."

Jenny froze at the sound of Damien's voice. She held a pile of old re-purposed costumes in her lap, and the tears that fell from her eyes stained the fabric in droplets. She quickly reached up to wipe the wetness from her face as Damien came around and set a bouquet of bright roses on the dusty wooden vanity in front of her. Jenny stared at them with hazy eyes, stopping herself from reaching out to stroke the petals. They had gone into town weeks ago, and Jenny had been enamored by the little rose shop there. And now here they were. But their charm was lost on her.

"Oh," was all Jenny whispered. She avoided his eyes as she lifted the pile in her hands to a box in the corner. Damien frowned when she faced away from him, and he carefully spun her around. She was so tiny, so fragile when he held her waist and cupped her cheek in one hand. He touched the bit of skin just under her eye, feeling the dampness there.

"You were crying," Damien whispered.

"No, it's just…it's all of the dust," Jenny explained, shifting under his touch.

Damien shook his head, guiding her to sit back on one of the wooden chairs in the room. "I want you to tell me what's wrong."

Jenny glanced down at the ground. "_Everything_. Everything is wrong." She took a breath as another tear fell. "I was invisible for so long that…When people finally saw me, I lost who I was in order to keep that."

"But I see you," Damien pleaded. "I do." He reached up to tug a strand of hair from her cheek. "I see everything. The way your hair is always a little bit out of place, the way you help everyone before you even think about yourself, and…you know things about me, things that everyone else judges me for." He smiled the smile of a practiced charmer, of a boy who'd been Chuck Bass' friend for far too long. "You make me a better person, Jenny."

"But you love someone else," Jenny said. "I…I see that too. And next to Diana…This thing between the three of us will go on forever – "

"Jenny, don't."

"Unless one of us ends it," Jenny finished, her voice settling into an eerie calm.

"You're breaking up with me," Damien stated, his eyes widening in realization. "But Diana and I, we're history. I'll admit that I was confused, but I'm looking at you now, and I know that it's supposed to be you and I. We can be different together."

"But I don't want to be different," Jenny murmured. "I'm a girl from Brooklyn. I hate the taste of alcohol. And I'm never going to snort a drug like its nothing or run off to a summer house in Europe when I need an escape. You can't take parts of me and glue them to pieces of Diana. It's never going to stick."

"I don't understand." Damien's voice went hoarse at the rejection. "I'm choosing you. I want _you_."

"Then I'm sorry that you have nothing now," Jenny apologized, bowing her head. She nodded to herself before planting a final, departing kiss on Damien's lips, the lips of a boy who she had so desperately wanted to be her prince. And then she stepped away. "I'm sorry, but I'm lost right now. And I know that this isn't who I should be."

And then she left him standing alone in a room, the costume room, where disguises were meant to come off.

:::

_December 12th, 2007: English 120, The Main Hall_

_"If we look at the themes in Hamlet compared to that of Shakespeare's comedies, we can see…"_

Blair's eyes went vacant as she tapped her ballpoint on the edge of her desk, legs crossing and uncrossing as Mr. Higgins went on about books she'd already read cover-to-cover during her time at Constance. She watched the seat on her other side, imagining that blonde hair and an untucked shirt might materialize beside her, that Ethan would just suddenly be _there_ again with a toothy grin, spewing out misquoted lines from that day's reading.

_"…and really, even Shakespeare's work should be looked at for what it is. They are stories. Stories with summaries. Stories that end."_

And across the room was another empty seat, right by the window, where a smug Mr. Darcy with James Dean's pout and Cary Grant's arrogance had once sat and challenged her to fall for him. Blair frowned at Chuck's absence, letting her pen drop with a hard snap. She _was_ a fool. A fool who'd fallen so far that she was starting to forget what things were before Chuck Bass. So she shut her eyes in the middle of class and tried to remember. _Nate, Serena, a finger down her throat, a slanted smile on her bitter lips. _Suffocating in clouds of three hundred dollar perfume and drowning in crowds that only knew how to fear her.

_"Miss Waldorf? Why don't you grace us with your attention?"_

Blair's eyes flitted up and narrowed as they set on Mr. Higgins. She stifled an eye-roll as the lanky man straightened out his maroon sweater vest, calling the attention of the entire class to her. Blair eyed his squared sideburns as he continued, "Or do you lose your will to participate when it doesn't involve flirting with Mr. Bass?" The class broke out in a flurry of snickers and whispers at his words. _What a prick_. She imagined that Higgins and Penelope would be a match made in heaven.

"How professional," Blair remarked, pursing her lips. "Is that how you got your MA? By stalking the lives of seventeen year olds?" Higgins parted his lips, his near-unibrow setting into an even straighter line. "Or are you just bitter because the English department didn't even bother to fit you into a real office?" Blair smirked, leaning forward in her seat. "Just so you know, your pathetic cubicle doesn't hide the hours you spend surfing soft-core porn on the internet. Let's hope that the headmistress doesn't catch wind of how you choose to spend your work hours." The class burst into full-on laughter as Mr. Higgins flushed a bright red. He glared at Blair, probably replaying her words in his head to calculate the weight of her accusation. She'd been bluffing, of course. Higgins just seemed like the type who wasted his time watching bleach blondes maul each other on the internet. And apparently, he was.

_If only Chuck were here to see this_.

"In-class assignment," Higgins finally said, appearing slightly dejected as he retreated behind his desk and shuffled a stack of blank papers. Blair rolled her eyes. "Write a short summary of _Hamlet _based on how it reflects your own life and experiences. Tell me what _you _think the tragedy is about." The man glanced up at Blair again before offering a noncommittal wave in the air. "In silence."

Blair sighed as she poised her pen over one page of her endless supply of Tiffany blue notebooks. She thought of Chuck as she stared at the painting on the cover of _Hamlet_. Eyes so dark that they seemed bottomless. And then her pen fell to the paper, needing only two lines to finish her assignment.

_Hamlet is about a broken boy who descended into madness when he sacrificed his heart and lost his mind to avenge his father. Hamlet is about the girl who loved him so much that she followed him into the dark._

:::

Blair was the first out of class when the period was finally over. Freshmen looked on at her in hushed awe, and a few senior boys checked her out like they'd always done to Serena back at home. But none of it fazed her. Blair tied her hair into a loose bun hanging at the nape of her neck as she made her way back to Dexter Hall. Right as she was about to push through the dorm's doorway, she was stopped by a boy standing in her way.

"Damien," Blair said, her tone accusing. Though they happened to fall in the same circle, he was completely irrelevant to her – a background extra who she couldn't be bothered to befriend. "Would you mind contemplating your empty life goals elsewhere? You're in my way." To this, Damien rolled his eyes, sinking back a step.

"Look – "

"If you've come to appeal that long overdue split with Little J, don't bother wasting your time," Blair sighed, hitching her Chloe satchel higher on her shoulder. "It may be hard for you to fathom, but the rest of us couldn't care less about that sad excuse for a daytime soap opera."

"Right," Damien said, a bitter laugh falling from his lips. "Well, as heartwarming as this conversation is, I need your help." He let out a breath, grabbing her elbow to yank her around. Blair let out an annoyed huff as Damien led her down to the other end of the hall.

"_What_," Blair started, glancing down at his hand in warning, "would I possibly want to help you with?" She tugged away from him, but curiosity sparked her to follow. When Blair was safely behind him, Damien relented, releasing her from his grip when they ducked into the side stairwell of the main hall.

"It's Chuck," Damien explained. Blair lost her breath as they sprinted into the top floor of the boys' dormitories, where the stone balcony mirrored the other side of the building. Blair ignored the slew of guys around her who all perked up with interest at her presence. The balcony was nearly hidden away, tucked in an obscure entry, a doorway locked for construction. Blair halted in front of it, waiting for Damien to explain himself. "He just took off in the middle of class earlier all dark and pissed. There's this…bottle of vodka that we keep stashed in the back of the library, and now it's gone. We'd always talked about sneaking back here to smoke, so I thought – "

Before he could even finish, Blair was already sliding a bobby pin from her hair and slipping it into the lock, biting her lip as she jiggled it for a moment. Damien looked on with his arms crossed, eyes wide in awe. "_You _know how to pick a lock?"

Blair scoffed as the lock gave way and clicked open. "Don't look so surprised, Dalgaard."

"I mean, where did you even learn that? In between tea parties and etiquette classes?" Damien smirked, clearly finding himself way more clever than Blair thought him to be. She paused for a moment with her hand on the doorknob and shot him an impatient glare.

"I don't know, Damien. Why don't we discuss it over lunch sometime? Since you seem to think that we're best buddies now." Damien's smile dropped as Blair shot him a faux smile and pushed the door open. She scanned the balcony with urgent glances, letting out a gasp when she spotted the dark figure balanced on one of the balcony's beams, a bottle of Smirnoff slanted up into his waiting mouth. Blair shivered in her uniform against the coming winter night and took a hesitant step forward as Chuck swigged.

"Hey, man," Damien called, his voice breaking the eerie silence around them. "You've got to get down from there – " Damien's words broke off when Chuck stumbled, gripping the bottle, nearly slipping from the beam. Chuck's eyes were cold and dead when he stared back at them, and Blair whipped around in hushed anger.

"You _idiot_," Blair spat. "You don't scare someone standing on a ledge!" Damien shrugged his shoulders in apology, looking helpless as Blair turned back around. She walked over to Chuck, slowly but surely reaching her arms up. And he resisted, snatching his arm away when she grabbed for him.

"Why don't you join me, Waldorf?" He raised his eyebrows at her, lifting the bottle in his hands. "You always look like you need a drink." Chuck smirked, stretching his arms out to point at Damien. "What's this? Did you need to fill the void now that Ethan's gone? Did you need someone else to dangle in front of me?"

Of course, Blair ignored him, snatching the bottle away despite his murmured protests. She turned back and shoved the offending object at Damien. "Get rid of that and make sure that no one comes back here."

Damien nodded, finally appearing to take the situation seriously. "Okay." He paused, hesitating, watching Chuck watching them from his perch. And then his expression softened. "Are you going to be alright? I can…"

"I can handle Chuck," Blair cut in, meaning the words in more ways than one. "But thank you." Damien nodded, tucking the bottle into his blazer as he ducked back into the building. Blair took a steady breath before turning back to the boy who was suddenly everything and nothing to her. He regarded her carefully as she crossed her arms. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"You just wasted a good bottle of vodka."

"_Chuck._"

Blair was surprised when he jumped down from the beam to join her on the cold cement. Chuck turned, elbows resting in the place where he once stood. He faced away from her, watching as the campus lights flickered on and illuminated the campus. She stood beside him, and she could only see shadows on his face, darkness crawling over his sharp jaw – but then again, it was always shadows with Chuck.

"Do you know what the headlines said this morning?" Chuck smirked, a bitter grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "_Hazing goes fatal in the hands of Bass billionaire's exiled son_."

"Your father – "

"I think he'd want me dead if murder wasn't bad press," Chuck said, his voice only wavering once. "He wants me gone the minute I graduate." He choked out a laugh. "_If _I graduate. Off the grid, excommunicated from the Bass name. Some other Briar, some other hidden place for castaways."

"But you can explain to him that it wasn't only you there," Blair pleaded, her small hand resting on the arch of his shoulder. "We'll scheme and plot or…He'll have to give you a second chance to – "

"Don't you get it?" Chuck spat, his voice raising, a _boom _across the balcony. "There are _no _second chances with my father." Down below them, a few sophomores heading inside for curfew looked up to find the source of the noise but saw nothing. Beside him, Blair was shaken, and she recoiled, pulling her hand away. Chuck looked at her, his eyes softening as he calmed himself down, as he swallowed down red-hot anger. "Look, I'm sorry." Blair nodded, eyes cast down. "I am…exactly who my father said I was."

Blair shook her head, unwilling to argue her point again. "We should go inside. You need to sober up…I need to get back before the headmistress finds an excuse to expel both of us."

Chuck nodded, his gaze distant when she guided him back to the doorway. "Of course." His tone was almost mocking as they stumbled through the entry, passing rows of closed doors before they came to Chuck's familiar one. "Because that would be the end of the world."

Blair rolled her eyes, pushing him into his room. She closed the door behind them and pushed him again until the backs of his knees hit the edge of his bed and he clumsily sat in front of her. Chuck closed his eyes as Blair's fingers came through his hair, rubbing his scalp with gentle fingertips as Dorota had done to relax her after a test or a takedown in elementary school. She marveled at the way he sighed in contentment, nodding into her touch. She leaned forward, laid herself bare as she whispered, "Let me help you, Chuck."

He opened his eyes in the same second, only hesitating to look at her face, her lips, before his hands reached out to pull her onto his lap. Blair spread her legs and straddled him, knees digging into his duvet. Chuck groaned as he shoved her skirt up, pushed her panties aside, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her bare ass as she wrapped herself around him. She kissed him feverishly and desperately until her lips found air, and his head was suddenly tucked under her chin. He shoved her white Oxford open, breaking a button to reveal her pale pink bra, the ounce of sweet cleavage underneath.

"You…" Chuck breathed, his finger tracing the edge of the fabric, mesmerized by the flush hiding beneath it. "You're flawless." He said the words as he had just a week before, tilting her chin down, forcing her to watch him as he unhooked her bra, trapping her wrists before he pulled it off all together. The air hit her breasts, and she felt nervous under his scrutiny. Blair went in for another kiss, but Chuck held her still, wrists bound by his heavy hands. And then he dipped his head lower, his tongue tracing the underside of her breast, suckling the skin with skilled lips.

"Chuck," Blair moaned. "_Please_."

It was too much for him, this moment. The things he felt for her were heady, all-consuming, façade-shattering. He pulled a rosy nipple between his teeth and reveled in Blair's sharp cry as her hips searched for his, grinding down when his hand fondled her other, neglected breast.

"Tell me what you want, Blair."

"I want you," Blair admitted, her voice breaking on the confession. "Even the cracked, insufferable, twisted parts of you. You and I…" She trailed off, lashes batting, cheeks glowing pink, just daring him to finish her sentence. She looked like a doll. And it was then that he realized how easily porcelain broke – how easily _everything _broke in his hands. He thought of Ethan, bloody and unconscious on the pool house floor. He thought of that wretched Penelope's words. _She's your kryptonite._

He looked up at her and no longer saw the queen she tried so hard to be. Blair's eyes glowed with more love than he knew what to do with, and her hands touched him like she was promising _forever_. And here she was, willing to lose their stupid bet to give him everything she had. Chuck swallowed, feeling dizzy as she reached up to hold his face in her hands.

There were things he wanted to tell her. Things under his skin that he wanted to show her – nightmares and tragedies that had burdened him since he was only a little boy. But Chuck knew that they would break her, thrust her into a catastrophe that she would never survive. He wanted this Blair – his Blair, if only for a moment – looking at him just this way. Untainted. So he buried his heart deep, swallowed his words down, and broke himself instead. His eyes flickered black, and he shoved her away – giving her a surface wound to avoid a scar that would run too deep.

He was letting her go before he could even have her.

"Chuck…" Blair murmured, wrapping her arms around herself as he turned away from her. She looked so vulnerable as she stood before him, one black knee-high falling around her ankle, her shirt unbuttoned to her navel. He pried his gaze from the sight.

"You see, that was always your problem, Waldorf," Chuck said coldly. "You tried to convince yourself that you could handle this." He forced a smile, unhooking the buttons at his wrists. "But you're just like all of the rest. It's a shame really, that the queen of Briar is just another schoolgirl with a pathetic crush."

Blair froze. "What?"

"What don't you understand?" Chuck scoffed. "You've lost, and I won."

"You've won...?" Blair echoed, shaking her head. Her features grew grim as realization washed over her. "This is still a game to you. I thought…"

"Thought what? That I'd be some devil you could redeem?" Chuck rasped, staring at the wall. "You were an innocent dabbling in the dark side, and I indulged your fantasy while it interested me." He braced himself for the blow, pinching his own skin where she couldn't see until he drew blood. "But I'm bored now. And I don't screw girls who've made the mistake of falling in love with me. It tends to send the wrong message."

Nausea hit Blair with full force as she swayed on her feet, reached up with shaky hands to button her shirt again. She felt cheap and the air felt dirty – everything was just so _wrong _now. She refused to look at him when she spoke again. "You're lying." Blair pursed her lips. "You're being cruel because you think that's who you're supposed to be." She narrowed her eyes. "You think that being heartless is the only way to survive."

"By all means," Chuck retorted, denying the truth, the fact that she knew him much too well. "Tell yourself that, if it makes you feel better."

"_Stop it_," Blair hissed. "I know you. I know what you are inside. I know that you're afraid because – "

"I'm _not _afraid."

" – because you think it's going to fall apart. But I'm not your mother, Chuck. That's not going to – "

"Don't," Chuck spat, getting up from the bed to level with her. Blair gasped at his proximity and stumbled backwards, holding the wall for support. "Don't act like we have some sort of bond now. Don't tell me what I feel." Chuck trembled, his fingers curling into tight fists. "And don't think you know anything about my mother just because yours doesn't give a shit about you."

_Crash._

_Collision._

_Impact_.

The emotion drained from Blair's face, save for a single tear that rolled down her cheek. Blair gasped when she caught it, and Chuck's eyes widened when he came back to Earth, replayed the reality of what had just taken place. "Fuck." Regret washed over him like it never had before. "Wait. Wait, I – "

"No."

"Blair, please. I didn't mean…"

"_No_. You were right," Blair said, her tone dead of any emotion. "You and I are nothing alike." Blair pushed him away, reaching down to shove her sock up her leg. "But at least I have a heart. I would never want to be empty inside."

"Blair, I'm sorry," Chuck pleaded as she whipped around, going for the door. "I fucked up. _I'm _fucked up, and I'm still drunk." She felt him close to her, felt his breath on her neck, but she wouldn't turn around.

"You don't get drunk, Chuck."

And then Chuck's hands were on her waist, and he was pulling her back, and Blair was resisting, and she thought that she might burst into tears if he didn't let her go right then. But still, he begged, "Just stay." His voice dropped and shook, his grip tightened. "I need you to stay."

"Why?"

For the first time in his life, Chuck was at a loss for words. "I...Because I..."

But Blair was already shaking her head, already imagining herself gone – far away from there. She yanked her arms away and reached for the doorknob. "Thank you."

Chuck swallowed. "For what?"

"For this," Blair whispered. "What you said…it was all true. Falling in love with you would have been a huge mistake."

:::

_December 14th, 2007: Dexter Hall Dormitories_

The following Saturday came with knocks so loud that they sounded like thunder.

Before that, Diana had been curled up next to Blair on her bed, boxes of macaroons and trashy magazines spilling over Blair's thick comforter. Across from them, Jenny caught a flying bottle of Pellegrino Limoncello from Diana's throw and offered her friend a soft smile. The girls all had their eyes trained on Gregory Peck as he drove Audrey Hepburn across Italian city streets in _Roman Holiday_. Audrey's laughter boomed from the television and filled the room.

"I like this one," Diana said, her mouth full of a _chocolat citron vert _as she untangled Blair's silky curls with a barrel brush. The other brunette closed her eyes, comforted by the friendly gesture. "It has a depressing ending. I don't think I can stomach another romantic ballad playing as two star-crossed lovers kiss in the rain." Diana rolled her eyes, a fake gag surfacing from her throat. She laughed when Blair threw a chocolate wrapper over her shoulder and at Diana's head.

"The ending of _Tiffany's _is cinematic genius," Blair practically growled, kicking her rosy-slippered feet up.

Diana and Jenny laughed at Blair's disgruntled expression, exchanging a relieved expression. On the previous night, the room had been over-crowded with broken hearts. Jenny and Diana both silently understood that they had both lost – that they were free of Damien now. And Blair had felt an ache in her chest so deep that she kept checking for a real scar on her skin. Because the pain was too real to only be inside of her. She had shown up back at her dorms late at night, greeting a frightened Jenny with eyes full of tears. And despite their argument earlier that week, Jenny let Blair cry in front of her, empty, silent sobs. She'd never seen Blair cry before, and she never wanted to again.

It had only taken Diana ten minutes to show up at their dorm room with frozen yogurt nicked from the cafeteria when Jenny called. And there they were, holding on to Audrey's life because theirs were falling to pieces. And, for a moment, it was going to be okay. Until the knocking started, killing their comfortable quietness with a desperation.

_"Blair, I need to talk to you."_

Blair's eyes widened, her heart halting before running a sprint in her chest. "Chuck." Diana's hand flitted across the comforter and grabbed for Blair's. A Tiffany blue manicure intertwining with pale pink.

_"I know that you're there. I need to talk to you."_

Blair looked at the two girls with her, forcing herself not to look as helpless as she felt. She poised herself to get up, but it was Jenny who moved first, Blair's promise of loyalty pitching her forward. "It's okay. I'll get it." She opened the door an inch to reveal a rumpled Chuck Bass, his dress shirt partially untucked, his tie a loosened noose around his neck. He went to push the door open, his eyes unfocused on the blonde in front of him, but Jenny carefully stood in his way. "Chuck, I…I think you should go."

"I don't take orders from underclassmen," Chuck drawled.

"Look, you need to go," Jenny said, daring herself to raise her voice. "You really hurt Blair, and…"

"No one understands what we have," Chuck hissed, his hand coming down on the wall beside their door. He ducked his head to level with her, empty eyes set on innocent ones. "Especially not you. So excuse me if I don't intend on taking love advice from someone who was in a fake relationship."

Jenny paused, weighing his words. "What…what are you talking about?"

Chuck shook his head, growing impatient. "I'm saying that your dearest Damien went after you as an experiment. I needed to catch Blair alone, and Dalgaard wanted to see how far he could go in distracting you. You were a project."

"No…" Jenny shook her head, stumbling back. "You're lying." Just then, the door swung open, and Diana ushered Jenny aside, setting angry eyes on Chuck.

"You need to leave," Diana demanded. "Like, now. You've caused enough damage. Why don't you go find Damien and wallow with him?"

"That's rich," Chuck retorted. "Go on and try to play the hero, but I'm the one doing her a favor. She should know exactly what she is to all of you. In fact, I'll do her another one right now." Chuck stepped forward, glancing at Jenny. "Why don't you ask your friend what she was doing over Thanksgiving break?" Chuck smirked. "Or rather, _whom_."

Diana's eyes widened. "Chuck, don't."

"Because Diana here hurt you more than I ever will," Chuck said. "When she slept with your boyfriend." Diana hung her head as his words set in, hiding her face in her hands as Jenny's lips fell open. Chuck swallowed down the guilt of his admission, his heart jumping when Blair appeared at the door, finally calling her attention. But before he could speak, he felt a sharp pain on his face, his head snapping to the side when Blair reached out and slapped him.

"Go," Blair said. "Now."

"Not until you forgive me," Chuck said, clearing his throat, holding his face with a shaking hand. "What we had – I want it back. We can still get it back." He looked like a madman as he clutched her arms with desperate hands, holding them to her sides. "You and I are magnetic. Our pull is undeniable. I know that you can feel it."

"You don't get it," Blair said, shaking her head. "All I wanted to do was be there, and you pushed me away. You pushed everyone away." Blair bowed her head. "I don't think you know how to love anything, so you destroy instead. That's all…that's the only thing you know how to do." The words weren't vicious but honest, but they hit Chuck all the same. He released her and took a step back, his eyes glistening as Blair stared back at him, saying only one thing before she shut the door. "Goodbye, Chuck."

Blair exhaled once she heard his retreating footsteps. But when she turned around, she was thrust into another disaster, unfolding right before her eyes.

"Tell me that he was lying, Diana," Jenny whispered. "Tell me that you Damien never actually…" Her voice went nearly silent as the unspoken words dropped between them. "That it was only feelings or…"

Diana's heart dropped. "I'm so sorry, Jenny." Blair watched as tears poured from her eyes, and she suddenly wished that they were both gone, that she could weather the aftermath of Chuck's storm on her own. She craved her bedroom back at home, craved superficial catfights with fake friends and boyfriends whose love only skated on the surface. When things were real, the stakes were that much higher. Blair didn't know that being a friend could hurt this much.

"How could you?" Jenny said. "You pretended we were friends."

"We are," Diana insisted. "We _are_. Things just got so complicated. Damien and I…everything between us was there long before we were friends."

"I want you to get out," Jenny said, storming over to whip open the door. "This is my room, too, and I want you to leave."

"Jenny…"

"Diana, get out."

The brunette swallowed, turning to Blair. "Blair, I…" Blair stared back at her, her heart splitting as she realized what Diana was asking of her. It was her turn to play the queen, to overrule Jenny's orders, to fix this. But as she looked at the blonde, she could only recognize the broken girl she'd been at the Sheperds' wedding.

_Blair, just hear us out._

_Nate and I -_

_It just happened._

_It was all a mistake_.

Blair shook her head, willing the memories away when she turned back to Diana and said, "I think you should go."

:::

_December 15th, 2007: The Student Lounge, The Main Hall_

_Hello? …Ha, gotcha! This is Ethan, and I'm having too much fun to answer the phone right now. So leave something rad, and I'll get back to you._

Eric swallowed, imagining the boy who was not really his boyfriend strapped to a hospital bed, eyelids purple and closed shut as IVs and drugs ran through his half-dead system. _The farthest thing from fun._

As the voicemail's low beep sounded, Eric cleared his throat, leaving his tenth message in the past five days. "Hey, it's me. So, you missed our trig test today. I'm sure that you're heartbroken over that." An empty laugh. "My, um, my lesson plan is still open and waiting for you when you come back. And then, of course, there was no one to go on about football while I was trying to study, so I sat down and watched the game just for you. Your favorite team won by five, I think. They got a goal or a basket or...whatever it is. And I…" Eric hung his head, his hand raking through his blonde hair. "And I miss you more than I've ever missed anything." He swallowed, covering his eyes with one hand. "I was falling in love with you, okay? I was falling in love with you, so you don't get to go away. You don't get to leave now." Eric coughed back tears as he held the phone to his ear. "Because if you don't wake up, I'm going to spend my entire life wondering what it would have been like to have you love me back."

Blair watched on as Eric said goodbye, and she pretended not to hear as he hung up the phone. She smoothed out her simple white dress, tugged at the sleek ponytail in her hair before she went to join him on the window seat in the student lounge. He glanced up when she sat beside him.

"Hi," Blair murmured.

"You look like crap," Eric replied, looking at the faint dark circles on her usually lineless skin. Blair looked up, her eyes widening before she let out a surprised little laugh.

"I suppose I deserve that." Blair glanced down, toying with the silver bracelet dangling around her thin wrist. "Eric, I'm so…"

"Don't say it," Eric interrupted. "It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault." Eric swallowed. "He has a drinking problem, and none of us could save him in time." Blair nodded, staring down at her hands.

"Are you going to see him?"

"I don't think I can stomach introducing myself to his parents as his trig tutor," Eric laughed. "It's probably better if I just wait here." They sat in silence for a moment, staring at the browning leaves outside. Blair let out a small breath when Eric wrapped his arm around her shoulders, squeezing her to him. "I heard about what happened in the girls' dorms with Chuck."

"Oh," Blair said, her hair spilling over, draping across Eric's chest. He was shorter than her, so she had to duck to rest her head on his shoulder.

They sat that way, their inexplicable bond needing no words until Eric spoke again. "I could give you a list of queens who've fallen in love," Eric whispered into her hair. "And you'd be on it." Blair squeezed her eyes shut as he spoke. "And you're going to be okay, Blair. You're the strongest person I know."

"I don't know what to do," Blair admitted. "I always know what to do, and now he's...He's making me feel like I'm going insane."

"Well, we both know that has nothing to do with Chuck," Eric joked, wincing when Blair elbowed his side. But she laughed anyway, shaking her head. "I promise you that you're going to put it all back together. That's what you do. You did it for my sister, you did it for Jenny, and you're going to do it for yourself." He glanced at his watch and reluctantly pulled away from her. "I have to go to class. Here – " Eric surfaced with a leather-bound book that Blair recognized immediately. "Chuck actually told me to give this to you." Blair frowned as Eric went to class. She looked down at _The Art of War _in her hands, her fingers tracing over the worn spine. She fumed, thinking that Chuck had stolen her book. But when she opened the front cover, the writing on its front page was not that of her late grandmother's.

"Oh my God."

_My Dearest Boy,_

_I have not seen you, and yet I already know that you are going to be the most beautiful thing I leave behind on this earth. I can feel myself fading away, and they tell me that these breaths are my last, but I know that I am holding on for you. You are exactly what I was always meant to bring into the world, and I love you. I will love you always._

_With that love, I hope you become a great man. This will break your father, so you'll have to do it on your own. One day, something will force your heart open, someone will take your hand, and you will love the way I know you can. I am sorry that you will not wake up to my eyes. I am sorry that I am inevitably taking a piece of your heart with me. I am sorry that this is all I could give you. Just don't forget that there is love inside of you. Never forget that._

_Your Mother,_

_Evelyn Bass_

Blair gasped when the ink smudged with one of her own salty tears. She wiped it away carefully as the book shook in her hands. She gasped for breath, looking up at the window to steady herself. And that was when she saw Chuck himself, standing in the courtyard as his limo driver loaded two leather bags into his trunk. It felt like Chuck was looking directly at her as he stood on the cobblestones, even though she was so far up that he couldn't possibly see her. She held the book to her chest, remembering his words on that late night in the library. _Chuck Bass doesn't get exiled without a point of escape. I have him on hand for emergencies._

And then he was gone, ducking into the limo, disappearing into the night.

Taking her heart with him.

* * *

**Author's Note: **A big thank you to a special friend who recommended using _Stay _by Rihanna for this story. It was so fitting, and it pointed me in the right direction. Another thank you to her for helping me flesh out the timeline of this story. I've decided to stick with Wires until Chuck and Blair graduate from Briar, which will make this project a lengthy one! Anyway, thank you guys so much for the remarkable support I've gotten. Your reviews are amazing, and you guys are awesome motivators. I'm sorry if I broke your hearts a bit with this chapter. D: I still want to know what you guys think about this turn in the story and what you think is coming. See you soon!


	9. This is How You Lose Her

**Chapter Nine: This is How You Lose Her**

_Goodbye, my almost lover. Goodbye, my hopeless dream._

_I'm trying not to think about you. Can't you just let me be?_

_So long, my luckless romance. My back is turned on you._

_Should've known you'd bring me heartache_

_Almost lovers always do._

**_- _Almost Lover by A Fine Frenzy  
**

:::

_December 21__st__, 2007: Dexter Hall Dormitories_

He'd only been gone for six days, and Blair was already desperate to erase him. She wanted to peel off every piece of Chuck Bass that had managed to work its way under her skin, unravel the tightly spun thread of memories of his eyes glinting as he teased her, the imprint of his lips scalding her skin, his voice in her ear, that low delicious rasp – even when he was mocking her with that insufferable phrase: "_I'm Chuck Bass_."

Blair sighed, her brow furrowing underneath her lacy eye mask. She peeked out from under the fabric, her fists curling when she realized that it was three AM on the morning before her last final, before she would no longer have a chance to sulk under her duvet with Audrey, Marlon, and Marilyn as her only companions. Across the room, Jenny snored lightly, messy hair strewn around her face like a miniature blonde whirlwind.

And still, Blair thought of Chuck.

He was like a plague, really, and it irritated her to no end. Every time sleep threatened to pull her under, she heard that deep, wicked drawl right in her ear. Behind closed eyes, she saw the shadowed corners of the library after hours, where Chuck had often waited for her at the cusp of midnight before Briar had descended into an emotional apocalypse. It was their secret place, and Blair had to force every ounce of romance out of herself whenever she saw him perched beside the reserves, an easy smirk on his lips, his eyes wild with excitement as he reached out for her hand.

Weeks before Ethan's accident, after their first tryst on the fields, Blair had gone to meet him when the campus had fallen silent. It was her time of the month – an unfortunate time for anyone who happened to cross her path – and she was wrapped up in her striped silk pajamas, her hair tied up into a single braid, a small scowl on her face. Blair used her phone as a flashlight, her fingers grasping the shelves as she made her way through rows and rows of dusty hardbacks. She let out a small yelp when a hand hooked around her waist in the darkness, pulling her up against a firm chest.

"_Bass_," Blair had whispered against his chest, holding onto his shoulders as he tugged her forward. "One day, we're going to get caught. And if I don't get into college because _you_ find torturing me amusing, I'll hunt you down and make you watch as I cut up every scarf you own." She narrowed her eyes, hoping to intimidate him. "Even the Armani ones." But it was to no avail. Chuck, of course, found her entirely amusing.

"Hm, I love it when you talk dirty," Chuck drawled, taunting her. He held her chin, and she shot him a dirty look in the darkness. "But would a little trouble be so terrible? I'm sure that Yale would be thrilled to hear about your choice in extra-curricular activities." Blair parted her lips to argue, but found him distracted when she looked up again. She watched as he took in her oversized pajamas and chuckled. "Nice outfit, Waldorf."

Blair pulled away from him and frowned again. "What's wrong with my pajamas?"

"Nothing," he smirked, hooking loose fingers through hers as they found his favorite window seat. "In fact…" Chuck had smiled against her cheek then, hooking his fingers under the silky material. "They're quite charming." Blair gasped as his fingertips skimmed the skin of her waist. And just as she was about to fall into his touch, her stomach twisted, a sharp and angry cramp that reminded her to pull away.

"I can't," She lifted her chin, racking her brain for excuses as he frowned, confused by her sudden discomfort. "I'm on… I have my…" Blair hated this, hated this week of torturous weakness, hated the furious blush on her cheeks as she admitted it to him. "I'm on my period, Chuck."

Chuck's eyes widened, and he sat back against the glass for a moment. Blair rolled her eyes, bracing herself for his departure. Knowing Chuck Bass, he'd run from the first sign of a hormonal Blair Waldorf. But instead, he had pulled her onto his lap – a move so juvenile that she almost protested. But she fell silent when his lips descended to her neck, fingers splaying out over her stomach.

"I guess," Chuck whispered, listening to her sigh as he rubbed her belly, soothing her with his palm. "I'll have to find another way to make you moan." Blair bit her lip as he draped two of her legs over one of his, worrying the skin below her ear with his teeth. Her cramps faded, the ache in her lower back vanished as he held her chin and tilted her head up. Blair shut her eyes when his lips pressed against her ear, his voice drowning out the rest of the world. "You're so beautiful. So fucking – " Chuck cut off as he popped open the top button of her pajama top, then the next one. "And _these_…" He licked his lips, tracing the dip of skin between her breasts. "Are bigger."

"_Chuck_." She meant to sound annoyed, meant to scold him as he leered at her. But his name came out in a breathy moan, and her fingers anchored in his hair. She threw her head back the moment he kissed her breasts, his tongue painting indecipherable patterns along her gooseflesh skin. She barely noticed his other hand, sliding down her stomach, safely over her pajama bottoms, the pad of his finger finding the source of her desire through the fabric there. She was sensitive, especially then, and it pulled her under instantly.

"Mm," Chuck groaned, pulling her tighter against him. She gasped when took one of her rosy nipples between his lips, sucking with languish. Blair's hand curled into a tight fist. "That's my girl." The whisper washed across her skin, igniting her flesh as she took in his words. "So responsive, even now."

_His girl_.

"Just imagine what it'll be like when I finally take you." His fingers pressed harder, and his kisses grew more insistent, but ever so gentle. "How I can make you feel…" Blair nodded at his words, lost in her own hazy delirium as he caressed her. "You and I are electric." His lips came up to hers again, pulling her bottom lips between his teeth. "Magnetic." He kissed her, muffling her light whimpers, smiling as she moaned his name under one harsh breath. "I'd drive you to the edge, memorize every line of your skin, every inch, so that you'd know – " The severity of his tone startled her. This had to be one of his games, one of his facades. But still, she'd fallen under the spell of his voice – so madly, so deeply, so utterly and completely _lost_. "You'd always remember I was the first. That I am the _only _one. You're tainted, Waldorf."

_His. Girl._

"Show me that I'm the only one who can make you feel this way." His voice was a deep rasp, right in her ear. "Even touching you, just like this, through your clothes…_Show _me what I make you feel. How you long for me to take you, _fuck _you until – "

Words that made no sense tumbled from Blair's lips as she bowed forward, opening her eyes but still catching darkness as she cried out. Chuck hushed her, goading her down from her high as she shook. His fingers nearly slipped over the silk of her pajamas, but he held firm, determined to maintain his rhythm until she peaked, scrunching up his shirt in one tiny hand, tugging on his hair with the other.

When it was over, she didn't have the energy to fight him when he curled her into his chest, the satisfaction clear on his face. And, for a moment, Blair had imagined if that was all they'd ever be – cracked, broken shards of a real relationship, fragmented compassion, a hopeless equation. And if they were so irrevocably doomed, then why did she love it so much?

"Speechless?" Chuck had teased, and it was a wonder that he didn't fall over from that enormous chip on his shoulder.

"Whatever, Bass," Blair said, rolling her eyes. She shifted in his lap, then groaned in slight pain, clutching her stomach. Chuck startled with that nagging, impulsive desire to help her. But, for once, this wasn't something he could smarm or flirt his way out of.

"Are you… " Chuck's brow furrowed. "Do you want me to…"

Blair forced herself to recover, shooting him a coy glance as she slowly sat up. "I'm _fine_, Bass." She paused, daring to smooth out his frown with her fingertips. "Who's speechless now?"

It was then that they – _whatever Chuck and Blair were_ – became something else entirely. Because instead of mocking her or biting out some crude sexual remark, he simply kissed her again. That was how it was between them – they each so stubborn, so intent on turning away from love that they couldn't see when they fell right into it.

And, after that, she often found herself talking to him until the sun rose and the Briar campus began its morning bustle, threatening to pop their little bubble. He'd ask her questions in the form of mockery, and she'd pretend to sigh and roll her eyes, all while indulging his curiosity.

"I don't get it," Chuck had once said, tilting his head back as he sipped from his flask. Blair watched him from across the stone bench, where they sat at the edge of the fields. Blair had frowned when he extended his arm to offer her a sip. From anyone else, the gesture would have been considered polite. But his eyes were calculating, his features twisting into a silent dare. With Bass, it was always a challenge.

"What don't you get?" Blair sighed, closing her eyes when she tasted him – sweet cigars and cinnamon – on the silver rim. The whiskey inside slipped down her throat, the slight sting of alcohol making her flinch for just a moment.

"You pretend to be this cold-hearted queen," Chuck leaned forward, quirking his brow. Blair went to return his flask as he spoke, but he waved it away, opting instead to pull her in for a kiss, slipping his tongue across hers, tasting the Bourbon on her. He left her breathless when he pulled back. "Why the charade?"

"What charade?" Blair echoed, shifting back to put a safe distance between them. "I'm _not _pretending. True queens simply don't toil with affairs of the heart."

"No," Chuck mused. "And yet you spend your time watching romance movies, idolizing Audrey Hepburn, and dreaming about the city of lights. You feed _ducks _at Central Park, Waldorf. That isn't exactly reminiscent of Stalin and Hitler." He cocked his head to the side, regarding her carefully. "It's something that's always fascinated me about you." Chuck held her gaze so fiercely that she thought he might burn her with his stare. "The cool exterior – the fire below."

Blair blinked once, registering his words. "You're deranged." She shook her head, avoiding his eyes. "And delusional."

"And _correct_," Chuck had added. "You're soft, Waldorf." He raised his eyebrows, swiping his tongue across his lower lip. "In more ways than one." Blair's cheeks reddened in both anger and embarrassment, and she pried her gaze away from his smug, sure expression. Across the field, in view of the school, a couple of sophomores laughed and whispered. The couple held onto each other, the boy pressing his apparent girlfriend against the old oak tree that stood behind campus.

Blair looked away, ignoring the fact that she and Chuck were there, hidden away from the rest of the world. She feigned nonchalance as she brushed her hair away from her face, letting her Oxford slip from one shoulder. Chuck watched, lips curling, as she leaned over. "That's right. You can see right through me. Can't you, Chuck?" Blair smiled, biting down on her lip. Her tone was dripping with playful sarcasm, and she had allowed herself the freedom that she only ever truly felt around Chuck. "Right to my – " She cut off, reaching down to hitch her skirt up. "_Core_." The conversation was lost as Chuck pulled her forward, his hand covering hers before hitching her thighs up and around his waist.

But it had always unnerved her – how right Chuck had been. But he couldn't possibly know that, just as Holly had the windows of Tiffany's, Blair had her brown bag of cut-up gourmet bread and the sun settling on Central Park's duck pond at noon. Ever since Dorota had taken her along when she was a mere five years old, Blair had claimed the spot as her own, completely romanticizing it. She'd returned every Sunday, hoping that it would be the place where she'd turn around to see the love of her life standing right behind her.

At first, the mystery man had been a combination of the different actors Blair had swooned over as a child: George Peppard's bright eyes, Cary Grant's slick hair, Paul Newman's full lips. Then, at the cusp of adolescence, that man became an older version of Nate, as she was so desperate to write him into her story. She was Blair Waldorf, and she didn't have _time _for chance encounters and hopeless dreaming. Nate was supposed to be hers.

But now – Now, none of that mattered. Not anymore. Her fantasy was empty, her pond was miles and miles away, and her heart felt as if it had been trampled on by a stampede of emotions. That Basstard.

She should have known it was a mistake, even then, even at the height of their twisted little relationship. Blair's eyes fluttered shut in her exhaustion, remnants of the memory fading away as she curled up alone in bed. Her hands reached across her sheets, finding purchase in a heavy black book, one that still smelled of his cologne, one that still spoke of the heart she knew he had, and she hugged it to herself until Chuck Bass could storm his way into her dreams again, just as he had into her life.

:::

_December 21__st__, 2007: The Briar Dining Hall_

Hours later, when morning came, Diana fiddled with a strand of her hair, scooping honey sausages beside the stack of pancakes on her tray. It would be her last breakfast at Briar before winter break would commence, but it felt more like she was having her final meal on death row. Their supposed kingdom had become a no man's land, and it was clear from the striking amount of empty tables at the center of the dining hall that no one was willing to break the silence first.

"Someone looks lonely."

Diana tensed, not bothering to turn around at the sound of Penelope's pitchy tone. Diana continued down the row of trays, hoping to shake her unwanted lag-on, but it was to no avail. The other girl persisted, smirking when Diana finally reached the end of the line.

"God, you are so fucking annoying," Diana snapped. "It's really a wonder why Chuck dumped your skank ass for Blair the minute she showed up." Diana shot a cold glare at Penelope. "Talk about an upgrade."

Penelope's wide grin didn't falter for a second. "Still defending the almighty and fallen, huh?" She cocked her head to the side, then turned to stack her own tray with food. "But…what ever will you do now?" Diana shook her head, ready to walk away, but Penelope continued, blocking her exit. "Look around you, Di. Chuck is gone, and Blair has shown her one weakness. Your king and queen have left this school in ruins, and someone has to pick up the pieces." Diana watched as Penelope happily shrugged. "And with or without you, that person is going to be me."

"Move," Diana warned, squeezing her tray until her knuckles burned white. "_Now_."

"Don't be stupid," Penelope hissed, her eyes going nearly black. "You want to stay loyal to girls who exiled you the minute drama hit? You want to be on the outside when everything goes back to the way it was?"

"I'd rather be on the outside," Diana countered, "Than pretend to be your friend _ever_ _again_." Her heart leapt when she caught a flash of blonde across the hall. Jenny was just sitting down to eat with Eric and her other theater friends. "Now, if you'll excuse me..." Diana shoved past Penelope, jabbing her in the side with the edge of her tray. Penelope scowled after her, arms crossed.

"Fine," Penelope called after her. "But they're going to let you down, and you're going to remember this. You're going to realize how right I am. Choose wisely, Diana."

"Don't hold your breath," Diana murmured, making her way to the table across the room. She swallowed, unused to being so nervous, bracing herself as she set her tray across from Jenny and sat down. The rest of the table glanced up at her, then at Jenny.

"Hi," Diana tried. Eric gave her a kind nod, and the rest of the table offered half-hearted greetings, but Jenny's eyes were still the coldest blue she'd ever seen.

"Am I your friend or your charity case today?" Jenny asked, clasping her hands together. The blonde shook her head, picking at her nails as she spoke. "Because it's getting hard to keep up."

"Jenny – "

"Or maybe I should find a new boyfriend," Jenny stated. The table fell silent, and Jenny's breath wavered as she spoke. "So that you can sleep with him, too."

"I don't want to leave things this way," Diana pleaded, ignoring the small audience of art freaks and theater groupies they'd gathered. Jenny flinched at the near desperation in Diana's usually playful tone. "I thought that we could talk. I just wanted to explain…" She trailed off, letting out a sharp breath. "I'm going home to my aunt's manor for break." Diana offered Jenny a small smile, her eyes brightening with an idea. "An indoor Jacuzzi, an _enormous _flat screen, and, like, zero parental supervision. I'm sure we can find _something _to tell your dad. You can come, and we can fix this." Diana nodded, more to herself than anyone else. "And Eric, too. All of us. We can – "

"I'm not interested," Jenny snapped, finally lifting her eyes to meet Diana's. "Okay? There's no us, and I don't want to have anything to do with you." Jenny got up from her seat, furiously piling trash onto her tray. "You and Damien wanted to be together so badly, and now…here's your chance. Just leave me out of it. For good."

"Damien and I aren't – " Diana cut off when she realized that Jenny was already halfway across the room, wiping a tear from her cheek as she dumped her tray. She cursed under her breath, turning back to Eric with an ounce of hope, but he was already getting up to leave, too.

"Look, I'm sorry," Eric said. "I'm all for playing the wise mediator, but this one is out of my hands. You really – "

"Messed up," Diana finished. "I know."

"Take it easy," was all Eric said before he left, followed by the rest of the table. Diana sat on her own, her appetite lost as she picked at the food on her plate. She swallowed down the lump in her throat, nearly feeling Penelope's eyes on her from across the room. Diana shoved away from the table, heels clicking away when she'd had enough. Black strands of hair whipped at her cheeks when she shoved through the dining hall doors, ducking under a broken gate of ivy, slipping into the musky alleyway behind it. Her fingers shook as she tried to light a cigarette, flicking the lighter again and again in vain. She cursed again when the cigarette fell to the ground unlit. But before she could bend to pick it up, another hand stopped her.

"Harrison," Diana breathed, startled.

Harrison Callahan had been a distraction. Green eyes, a set jaw, broad shoulders and a built body – the key to losing herself in mindless hook ups, useful in parading him around in front of Damien months ago. But for the past few weeks, she'd been avoiding him, dodging him in the halls and ignoring his texts, all since she'd slept with Damien and royally screwed things up with Blair and Jenny.

"Hey, stranger," Harrison said coolly, handing her the cigarette. She tried to smile at him, mustering up as much flirtation as she could manage. But his expression was hard, and his tone was mean. Diana swallowed, eyeing the gate she'd just come in from. Harrison stepped in front of it. "Mind telling me why you've been screening my calls?"

"I…" Diana trailed off when Harrison shifted closer, touching a strand of her hair. "I have to go now, okay? Get out of my way."

"No, you don't," Harrison corrected. He was being such a typical Briar jock – arrogant, refusing to accept his wounded pride. "You just got here." Diana gasped when he cupped her chin, his fingers digging into her cheeks. "I thought we were having fun, Diana. I thought you wanted to play."

"No…" Diana choked out, hands reaching for the wall behind her. "Look, I'm really not in the mood to talk right now."

"I don't want to talk," Harrison laughed. Diana groaned when her back hit the wall and his hand jerked her chin upward, forcing her to look at him. She cried out when a sharp pain struck her spine, and his knee shoved her thighs apart. "Or am I only a good fuck when you're trying to make Dalgaard jealous?" Diana shook her head from his grip, but he only reached up to pin her wrists back against the cement. "You know, it's whores like you that really piss me off."

"Please, _don't_," Diana said, struggling against him. But her words met unhearing ears. She screamed when fabric tore and blood rose under her skin, when tears fell like a storm, hitting his hand when it came over her mouth. Diana had never been one for theatrics, she'd never been virginal or innocent. But, when he took her, when he muffled her screams with a heavy hand, she imagined that this was what it felt like to have the world collapse under her feet, to be torn apart beyond her skin, beyond her bones, down to her heart.

And although Harrison was as close to her as any person could possibly be to another, Diana imagined that _this _was what it felt like to be completely and utterly alone.

:::

_December 23__rd__, 2007: Huntington Hospital_

Ethan awoke on a Sunday.

Blair's arm brushed Eric's as they made their way down Huntington Hospital's stark white halls. She wrinkled her nose at the distinct smell of public bathrooms in the stale air and crossed her arms. She adored Ethan, but this wasn't exactly an ideal way to start off her winter break. And the next person who so much as coughed in her presence would face her imminent wrath.

"Blair, this isn't a punishment," Eric said, rolling his eyes.

"Then why," Blair hissed, hitching her bag over her shoulder as she dodged a janitor's cart. "Am I being forced to frolic in the land of bacteria and cafeteria slime?" Eric frowned at the odd sound of her voice, and he glanced at her, watching her lips pinch tightly together.

"Are you seriously trying not to breathe in through your mouth?"

"Do you _honestly _think I'm going to spend my winter break bedridden because this insolent hospital staff doesn't believe in having a proper supply of disinfectant?" She narrowed her eyes at a passing nurse. "_Yes_, I'm talking about you."

"God, you're testy," Eric groaned. "Chuck needs to come back for all of our sakes…" He trailed off when he registered the weight of his joke and felt Blair tense up beside him. "That wasn't funny."

"No," Blair confirmed, letting out a long sigh. "Your sense of humor ceases to amuse me, van der Woodsen. But…" Blair paused, clutching his shoulders and turning him around. "We're here."

"Right," Eric gulped. He ran a hand through his hair, taking an uneasy step back.

"You're not nervous," Blair said. It wasn't a question, but an order. "Oh, come on. It's not like he's had a chance to move on." Blair smirked, urging him on. "I don't think he's gotten out very much."

"Funny," Eric murmured, poising his hand over the doorknob in front of him. Blair nodded at him, but Eric froze up, twisting the knob without pushing the door open.

"Oh, for God's sake," Blair sighed. She reached out, wrapping her hand around his to shove the door open. The room was quiet when they burst in, save for the low hum of a football game playing on the monitor behind them. Eric stared own at the floor for a moment, taking a deep breath before looking up at the white bed pushed up against the back of the room. He expected the worst – someone sickly, bruised, and battered. Blood and scars, casts and oxygen masks. But, instead, he found a smiling Ethan, blonde hair sticking up to reveal a bandaged welt on his forehead, blue eyes bright with relief and excitement, as he swallowed down what looked like his third cup of Jell-O.

"Finally," Ethan grinned, sitting up in bed. "Some proper entertainment." Blair smiled as she leaned in to give him a quick hug, then screamed when he lugged her onto the bed with him, sending her Hermes clutch to the floor.

"God, you're so immature," Blair huffed, smoothing out the skirt of her dress. "I see that you're _exactly _the same as you were before."

"It's good to see you, too, B," Ethan teased, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. Which she promptly wiped off. "And where's Bass? It's not like I expected him to show up with flowers or anything, but you two are usually inseparable – " Ethan silenced when Eric shook his head, and Blair flinched again. Ethan recovered just as quickly, shrugging one shoulder up with a dimpled grin. "Anyway...I'm glad you're here. These doctors all act like they have sticks up their asses." Ethan paused, glancing at Eric. "I'm just really happy to see you."

"Ugh," Blair said, snatching her clutch from the floor. "You can commence with the eye sex while I go get coffee." She rolled her eyes as Eric went over to the bed and Ethan stuck his tongue at her. Once the door clicked shut behind her, Ethan ran his fingers through his hair, leaning towards Eric.

"Hey."

"Hi." Eric bit down on his lip. "You know, trig really hasn't been the same without you."

Ethan's eyes darkened, his expression taking on a sudden intensity as he reached for Eric's hand. "_Nothing _has been the same without you." He came closer still, and their fingers twined together atop the sheets. "I know that…I fucked up. But I'm going to change. I'm going to stand up for us." Ethan took a deep breath. "For you." Eric nodded. They were so close now. So unbelievably close. All he'd have to do was lean over an inch more and –

"Shit," Ethan whispered, yanking his hand away when the door clicked open again. This time, a middle-aged woman wearing a demure tan dress burst through it, sunglasses shoved through her blonde highlighted hair. Behind her, a burly man with a sweep of gray hair and hard features followed, scanning the room like a vulture to its prey.

"Ethan," the woman sighed, scooping up the discarded containers of Jell-O. "What have I told you about this pre-processed junk? Really, it's as if you don't care for your own health." The woman bustled about as the man stayed stationed at the front of the room, regarding the scene with calculating eyes.

"Mom," Ethan coughed. Eric startled for a moment, realizing that this was it. He was "meeting the parents" in a stiff hospital room, amidst the buzz of life machines and chatting orderlies. He straightened, suddenly willing Blair's return. She'd know how to handle a situation like this. She'd come up with some snarky, witty remark to break the ice. But Eric had nothing.

"And who's this?" his mother asked, finally looking up at Eric.

"Eric van der Woodsen," he said, reaching to shake her hand. The woman merely glanced down at his outstretched arm, curling her lip up. Eric's fingers closed into a fist that dropped to his side. Ethan shook his head as Eric continued to stammer on, "I'm Ethan's – "

"Trig tutor," Ethan interrupted. "Eric's been helping me pass."

"Right," Eric chimed in. "I'm just the tutor." On cue, he dumped the stack of homework assignments and textbooks he'd brought along atop Ethan's beside table and backed away. "I'd better go."

"Wait…" Ethan coughed under his breath. His mother was ignoring their little exchange, but his father was still watching from across the room. Ethan's eyes went desperate and wide as Eric waited. "I…" A pause came along with an opportunity. But all he said was, "Thanks."

Eric nodded, backing away with a dejected expression. "Don't worry about it." And then he was gone, pushing out of the room, slumping against the wall outside with his head in his hands. He swiped his palm across his own face, letting out an exasperated breath until a voice broke him out of his frustration.

"Van der Woodsen." The voice was deep and emotionless, echoing across the near-empty hallway. Eric glanced up at Ethan's father, his long black trench coat, his sharp, slanted features. And he wondered how Ethan could possibly be his son.

"Yes," Eric confirmed, glancing around, "…sir?"

The man stepped closer, looming over Eric's smaller form. He raised his hand, clutching a thin silver phone with tight fingers. Eric frowned, realizing that it was Ethan's. And then the man spoke again, "You're going to stay away from my son."

"What?"

"I listened to your pathetic lovesick voicemails," the man hissed. Eric shrank back as he took a threatening step forward. "I don't know what you're playing at, but my son isn't a fag. Do you understand?" Eric flinched at the word, remembering the bullies in elementary school, the names he'd hear when he was trying to fall asleep each night – the endless torment.

"You can't just tell me to stop seeing him," Eric argued. "This is who he _is_."

"This is _not _who he is, dammit." His fist came down on the inch of wall beside Eric's head. "No son of mine will be gay, and I'll make sure of that."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that Ethan will be disowned," the man explained. "Excommunicated from the Merrick family name. You think you know my son so well. Then be _smart_, Eric. How long do you think he'll last without his inheritance? He's certainly not going to get by on his grades."

Eric shook his head. "You don't know him like I do."

"And your family will go down next," Ethan's father spat. "You have no idea what I'm capable of. I have my hands on the biggest news companies in the North Eastern region. All of your mother's indiscretions, your slut of a sister – "

"What's going on here?" Blair suddenly stood between the two of them, a coffee in her hand, her eyes narrowed at the strange man. She placed her other hand on Eric's shoulder.

"No need to worry," the man said, instantly smoothing his expression. He smiled at Blair but kept his eyes on Eric as he continued, "Eric and I were just coming to an agreement. Weren't we?"

Blair frowned, not buying it for a second. "Eric?"

"Let's go, Blair," Eric said, casting a final glance at Ethan's father before spinning around. "We're done here."

:::

_December 25__th__, 2007: Le Scandal, New York City_

This was supposed to be paradise.

But it burned too much like hell.

A needle sank into Chuck's arm and his vision flickered to a blinding white before fading to black. He tilted his head back, falling into the rush, sparks bursting under his skin, toxic numbing his brain. He stumbled forward, grasping onto a tangle of limbs, laying back against the velvet cushions in Le Scandal's backroom. It was the only decent lounge that stayed open on Christmas, and now he was intoxicated, he was dying, he was falling, and it was fine – because anything was better than remembering her. He heard himself speaking, felt girls slip from his lap in a fit of giggles, girls that felt nothing like _her_. Lips that couldn't even compare.

"Another?" a blonde offered, a tantalizing stack of white powder on the tip of her finger. Chuck parted his lips to take it in, but he froze when he heard a another voice in his ear, surely a hallucination. He saw a flash of brown hair, a coy smile, a prim uniform wrapped around the most glorious body he'd ever touched.

"I don't do drugs, Bass," Blair had hissed as Chuck splayed out a line in front of her a month ago. Blair watched as he shuffled the white powder on one of her chemistry textbooks. His other hand was on her knee, his thumb idly circling her skin.

"You also claimed that you'd never do _me_," Chuck smirked. "And now, we both know that's not true." Blair narrowed her eyes, fighting a small smile. She watched as Chuck gathered some onto his fingertip and ran the line inside of his mouth, swiping it inside of his cheeks. "It's just MDMA, Waldorf. Relax."

"_Just _MDMA?" Blair echoed, slapping his hand away when he taunted her with it. Chuck grabbed her wrist and laughed. But when he went to take more, she held his hand, the amusement gone from her expression. Chuck cocked his head to the side in confusion. "You don't need to…" She recalled his words from one of their first nights together, the way he'd pulled her hair and whispered in her ear on the kitchen floor. "There are other things you can use to escape. To...forget." Chuck dropped her textbook as she climbed into his lap behind the cover of the back wall. Her fingers skimmed his jaw, and her lips whispered words against his skin that he had no chance of hearing. And then -

Chuck blinked awake as the image of Blair disappeared. He gasped for breath as he pushed his scantily dressed escort away, staggering to his feet. Somehow, he made his way through the mess of dancers and drunk businessmen, pushing through the backdoors and into the cold night. Snow fell as he sank back against the grimy wall. Couples held hands, families were loaded up with presents and hot chocolate, and _he_ was alone. Chuck closed his eyes and imagined Blair in her little trench coat for a moment, her arm link through his as they walked under the snow. He'd tease her, and she'd roll her eyes, allowing him a bite of her favorite macaroon. The vision of it was too much to bear.

Chuck slid to the ground, staining his dress pants as he scrolled through his phone in a haze. And then Blair's name was on the screen and a low ring sounded in his ear. He closed his eyes when the tone cut off, replaced by a confused yawn.

"Hello?" There was a pause, a shuffle of fabric, a low gasp. "Chuck?"

"I…" Chuck trailed off in his drunken stupor, raking his fingers through his hair.

"Chuck, where are you?" Blair asked. He glanced at his watch, realizing that it was almost three in the morning, that he'd probably woken her up. His heart panged when she continued in a low whisper, "Chuck, you just left. You gave me that book, and then you were _gone_. But you can't do that. You can't change everything and run away." Blair paused. "I'm not going to let you."

Chuck said her name then, his eyes trained on the starless sky above him.

"I need to know," Blair whispered, ignoring his mumblings. "You told me once that you wouldn't love anyone. But you, Chuck Bass, you're a liar. You gave me the book because you were afraid, and you let your mother's words speak for you."

"Blair – "

"But I need to hear it." He listened to her voice shake. "I need to know that this isn't a game. Because if it is, I don't want to play anymore."

Chuck parted his lips to answer her, but he cut off when the side door burst open, and the sound of laughter and techno broke into their conversation. Heels stumbled on the concrete, and the blonde from earlier called out, "Chuck? Are you coming back inside? We…_need _you in there." The girl winked, thrusting her cleavage at him. His chest tightened in panic when he heard Blair draw in a sharp breath on the other end of the line.

"Blair, don't hang up," Chuck pleaded, clearing his throat. He listened to her breath for a whole minute before she spoke again.

"Merry Christmas, Chuck."

_Click_.

Miles away, curled up in a duvet in the dark, listening to ungodly sounds emanating from Cyrus and her mother's bedroom, Blair hung up her phone, letting it fall to her side. A tear slid down her cheek, and she angrily swiped it away. She glanced up at the glow coming from her TV screen. As she always did on Christmas Eve, Blair had fallen asleep to _Breakfast at Tiffany's_. She reached for the remote on her bedside, ready to turn it off. But before she did, she watched as Holly bid farewell to her past lover on the screen, kindly placing her hands on the man's shoulders.

_"It's the mistake you always made, Doc,_" Holly sighed, but it seemed as if she was talking right to Blair. _"Trying to love a wild thing_." Blair bit her lip, staring down at the dark screen of her phone. _"You musn't give your heart to a wild thing. The more you do, the stronger they get, until they're strong enough to run into the woods or fly into a tree. And then to a higher tree and then to the sky."_

:::

_December 28__th__, 2007: Bass Industries_

As Blair stared up at the looming silver building in front of her, she tried to imagine Chuck as a child, playing in his father's office. But she couldn't. Stern businessmen gave her bright purple trench coat puzzled glances as she made her way through the stiff halls inside, pressing the elevator button for the very top floor, where Bart Bass' name was engraved in gold under the number 26.

"Blair Waldorf," she said to the receptionist, pursing her lips as she glanced down at her phone. Of course, Chuck hadn't tried to call her again after their little debacle on Christmas. It wasn't as if she was surprised, but her heart ached all the same. And as long as her question was met with silence, she continued to seek out an answer.

"I'm sorry," the receptionist droned. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No," Blair frowned, flicking her hair back. "But it's urgent."

The woman shot her a look before turning back to her computer. "Sorry, I can't let you in unless it's appointment-based."

Blair let out an impatient breath, and then paused when she noticed the smudge of lipstick on the corner of the woman's lip, the broken button at the collar of her blouse, spread open just enough to reveal a red bite mark near her collar. Blair smiled, tilting her head to the side. "And yet, Mr. Bass doesn't seem to have a problem with fitting in impromptu appointments for _you_."

The woman froze, dropping her pen. "What are you insinuating?"

Blair smirked. "Oh, I think you know." As she walked past the waiting area, she waved her fingers at the woman. "You might want to take a visit down to the ladies room." Blair shot her a smug grin. "And…freshen up." She left the stunned woman behind as she strolled into Bart's office, taking in the ceiling-to-floor windows, the intimidating black desk, the blank walls.

"Can I help you?"

Blair glanced up at Bart, whose chair had just swiveled around. His cold, blue eyes set on hers, and she forced herself to breath. Of course, this was where Chuck must have learned to brood, to feign cruelty. This face matched the one that had pushed her away on that night after the pool incident.

"Mr. Bass," Blair greeted with forced politeness. "I'm Blair Waldorf."

The man straightened with curiosity. "Of course. I've been dabbling in a few accounts with your mother." The man paused, sitting back. "What do you need?"

"You must know that I go to Briar now...with your son. Chuck is…" Blair stopped for a moment, glancing at Bart's desk. While most others had framed photographs of their families, Bart's tabletop held only a stack of contracts and a glass of whiskey. "Chuck left school, and now he's missing. I got a strange call from him on Christmas Eve, and I was hoping that – " Blair cut off. What _was _she hoping for?

"You shouldn't waste your worries on my son, Ms. Waldorf," Bart laughed. "I'm sure that you can find something more valuable to do with your time."

"Is that honestly how you see him?" Blair asked, incredulous. "I just told you that he _left_ – just vanished – and you didn't even flinch."

"Chuck's disappearing acts hold very little interest with me," Bart explained, turning back to the papers on his desk. "And anyone who decides otherwise is simply wasting their time." His voice was empty when he spoke. "My son is a _failure_. He'll be just another washed-up heir by the time he hits twenty. He's a waste of space, and so he's free to go."

"How dare you?" Blair spat in a voice that she herself did not recognize. "Chuck is one of the smartest men I've ever met. So what if he uses that intelligence to scheme and dally in his indiscretions?" Blair took a step forward. "He's _still _more decent than you'll ever be. And despite having a monster of a father like you, all he does is seek your approval. How can you not see that?"

Bart appeared unfazed as she spoke. "You, my dear, are just another little girl who's swept up in a one-sided romance."

"Don't condescend me, Mr. Bass," Blair retorted. "I'm Blair _Waldorf_. I know things, I've seen things, that you're completely oblivious to." She stopped, preparing for the blow. "And I think you know that if Evelyn Bass was still alive, she'd choose Chuck over you in a heartbeat. And that's what kills you. Isn't it? Because he has a heart. But you – " Blair narrowed her eyes. "No one will _ever _love you."

"I suggest you leave," Bart replied. "Before you get yourself into something you can't insult your way out of."

"Are you threatening me?"

"If you choose to see it that way."

"It won't work." Blair shook her head. "That's yet another thing that Chuck and I have in common. We were born and bred from the same the book. We both know how to survive. And neither of us are afraid of you." She cast a final hard glare in his direction before turning to leave. "So just know that whatever war you wage with Chuck now - it'll be against me, too."

:::

_January 1__st__, 2008_

**Good morning, Upper East Siders. While most of you are just waking up from your drunken hook-ups and final soirees wearing last night's trashy disco apparel, I'm lapping up a flute of Pinot Grigio at my favorite ****_salle de bar _****downtown. **

**And who am I toasting to? Well, look around. I'm ****_nothing _****without you. Because without your indiscretions and misplaced affections, I'd have nothing to write about. So, as a token of my appreciation, you're all off the hook for the holidays. Do your walks of shame with an ounce more of pride because my posts are going nameless. For now, of course.**

**But before we can truly ring in the New Year, there are a few loose ends that must be tied, lest we repeat the mistakes of last year's past.**

**Whether it's an unanswered ****_SOS_****, forcing a damsel into becoming a girl she never thought she'd be…**

_"You're hurting me, asshole." _

Diana squeezed her eyes shut in the sanctuary of her room, arms wrapped around herself, covers drawn up to her chin.

"_What did you just call me?" _

She felt the sharp slap on her face all over again, blood beating under her skin, bruises forming twisted patterns across her flesh. Diana pressed her fingers into her temples, forcing the harsh voices in her head away, ridding the memory from playing out behind her closed eyes. She sat up in bed, perturbed by the silence around her. Before, she'd always invite her friends to spend New Years Day in her aunt's manor with her. They'd run around the grounds, drunk off of champagne, high off of the excitement of new beginnings. But now, she had no one. Jenny wasn't even slightly interested in what she had to say. Damien had called her once, as she was probably his last resort, but she had screened it. And her aunt had flowered her with Chanel and Armani before taking off to spend her holidays with a new boy-toy down in Cabo San Lucas.

All Diana had was a broken memory, a ripped uniform, and scars down the inside of her thighs and across her chest. And then there were the scars on the inside.

When dusk came, Diana decided she'd had enough. She wrapped herself up in a wool sweater and pulled on jeans, flinching when they made contact with her bruises. She spent fifteen minutes painting foundation over the spread of deep purples and blues on her cheek. And then she walked.

Diana walked until her aunt's manor was just a dot in the distance, until it didn't hurt so much when Blair ignored her calls. She tried again and again as she stomped across the grass, listening to Blair's voicemail until she had it memorized, until her phone died, and Diana threw it across the field in frustration. She let out a cry, sinking to the ground when her legs finally gave out.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Diana glanced up, nearly screaming. She'd been jumpier lately, completely on edge. She glanced behind her, realizing that she'd ended up in the backyard of another estate. As she stood up, backing away from the golden-haired boy in front of her, a gold plaque caught her eye near the sprawling mansion behind him. _The Vanderbilt's Residence._

"Look, I'm sorry," Diana offered. "I didn't mean to crash your…" She gestured to the expanse of prim lawns and shuttered windows. "I'm staying with my aunt down that way." She and the boy both glanced at the row of trees she'd just surfaced from.

"No, it's totally cool," the boy shrugged, his blue eyes lighting up when he smiled at her. Diana let out a breath when he nodded at her. "You should come inside. I'm not going to let you walk back down there by yourself." The boy paused. "And my grandfather's chef makes some killer Italian sausage."

"I…" Diana nodded, shivering against the cold again, shifting to hide the bruise on her wrist from him. "Sure. I'm Diana, by the way. Diana St. Jean."

"And I'm Nate," he replied as he led her inside. "Nate Archibald."

**Or a forlorn lover with his heart in his hands, knowing when to call it quits before catastrophe strikes…**

"Eric, come on."

"Can you just pick up?"

"Look, I know that what went down at the hospital was messed up, but I'm home now, and I just thought – "

Eric snatched the phone from its receiver and pressed it to his ear. His mother and sister glanced up from their makeshift holiday dinner with interest. Lily raised her brows, prepared to eavesdrop, and Serena swept her hair back, her face wrinkling in concern. Eric sighed, mouthing that it was _fine _as he took the phone into their guest room at The Palace, locking the door behind him.

"You need to stop calling the hotel," Eric murmured. "I'm not really interested in clueing in my mother and sister on my love life."

"What else am I supposed to do?" Ethan asked, exasperated. "You've been blocking my calls on your cell." His voice was low on the other end of the line. Eric imagined him running the shower in his bathroom, muffling his voice as his mother arranged their centerpiece for dinner, and his father…Eric shook his head. He'd rather not think about that. "I want to know…what I did to make you act this way. I just needed time – I told you that."

"It's not about time anymore," Eric coughed. He sat on his bed, staring up at his ceiling, recalling that night at the pool house, the sickening crunch of Ethan's head when it hit the edge of the pool. And then he thought of Ethan's father, his cold eyes, his dead serious threats. "We could have all the time in the world, and it's never going to be right."

"That's not true – "

"It is, Ethan. And honestly, in what world do you ever see us walking down the halls hand in hand? I mean, you haven't even had the courage to kiss me yet."

"Eric – "

"I think…" Eric trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut. "You should find another trig tutor, Ethan. Because this is over. All of it is over."

**Or a wounded knight and his guarded queen meeting again at the right place, at the wrong time...**

"I love it, I _love it_!" Jenny squealed into the phone. Blair rolled her eyes, a smile playing on her lips as the blonde raved about her Christmas present – a Swarovski-encrusted headband that Blair had sent over to Brooklyn a few days ago. Her own present from Jenny hung proudly in her closet – a stunning, floor-length black gown she'd sewn that resembled Audrey's signature garb exactly. Of course, she'd never let Jenny know this, but Blair had put it on the minute she'd unwrapped it and had Dorota escort her over to Tiffany's when the sun was just rising, playing out her own little opening scene.

"Enjoy, Little J," Blair cooed. "And I expect to see you early on the third, so that we can rehash winter break. Understood?"

"Yes, Boss," Jenny teased, giggling before she hung up the phone. Blair sighed as she said goodbye and turned to eye the unopened box on her vanity. The tag was addressed to Diana, an order placed before Chuck had exposed her secret, and another headband was settled inside, still untouched. Almost on cue, her phone rang in her lap, Diana's name lighting up the screen.

"Dorota!" Blair called, shoving her phone into her purse. "I tasked you with _one _thing. So unless you're downstairs making that loaf of bread yourself, I don't see why we're not on our way already."

"I'm sorry, Miss Blair," Dorota huffed, helping the girl into her winter coat. As they headed for the elevators, a loaf of soft French bread from the patisserie down the street in tow, her maid handed her a silk scarf. "You are not going to answer phone before we go?"

Blair paused for a moment. "I suppose I should. Every good queen must learn to extend her forgiveness." But Blair silenced her phone anyway, following Dorota through the elevator doors. "But Diana will have to wait until we return. It's not like anything earth-shattering will happen by then."

When they arrived at Central Park, the sky was clear of clouds and slivers of sunlight were just beginning to kiss the surface of Blair's pond. Blair exhaled as she planted her heels into the ground, pulling apart pieces of bread and tossing them in the air. She and Dorota watched as fat, yellowed ducks squabbled for the food, relentless in their quest to find the biggest pieces of bread.

Blair allowed herself to smile for a moment. "They'll always be here. Won't they, Dorota?" Blair tossed another piece near the still water. "Even in the winter, even if they have to weather a storm, they'll just keep coming back."

Dorota nodded. "Yes, Ms. Blair." Blair nodded back, finally scattering the last bit of the loaf in her hands. As she checked herself for crumbs, she felt Dorota's hand on her elbow. "_Ms. Blair_. Behind you." Blair frowned as she spun around, and _oh God_. Standing there, with a black coat fitted perfectly to his frame, stained and tattered pants covering his legs, and a face that still so devastatingly handsome, even though he looked like he hadn't slept in a proper bed in days, was Chuck Bass.

"Chuck," Blair gasped. "You're…" She forced herself to breath. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see you," Chuck explained. He nodded at Dorota, who was now fleeing the scene, making her way up the hill from which they had come. "Thanks."

"Traitor," Blair murmured in Dorota's direction, crossing her arms over her chest. She turned back to Chuck. "Why? Why did you need to see me?"

"You have something of mine," Chuck said, taking a step towards her. Blair thought of _The Art of War_, which was still tucked under her pillow back at the Waldorf Penthouse. But with the way he was looking at her, the way his eyes reintroduced their stealthy gaze to every inch of her face as they would to an old friend, she knew that he couldn't only be talking about the book. "I thought I could give it to you, and it would be easier when I left. I thought that if I stayed, you'd see…"

"See what?"

"Me," Chuck choked out. Blair flinched at the sudden honesty in his eyes, the pain clenching tightly under his voice. "And then I found out that you went to see my father. And I had to know if you still cared. I had to know what you said to him."

Blair's eyes widened. "He told you?" But Chuck shook his head in response, lifting his phone. Blair nodded in realization. "Gossip Girl. I had been so used to being away from her that I forgot she had eyes everywhere." Blair sighed as he waited for her to go on. But she wouldn't tell him about Bart. She wouldn't give him that. All it would do was give him something else to crack. And so she stayed silent, regarding him with a slight challenge in her eyes.

"Blair – "

"You're here now," Blair stated, ignoring his question. "That night, before you left, I asked you a question. And on Christmas Eve, when you called, I asked you again." She braved a step forward. "You need to answer me, Chuck. There aren't any limos here. And you can't hang up because it suits you. It's just you and I. And I need to hear you say it."

Chuck swallowed. "I'd say anything for you."

Blair stepped closer to him again, closing her eyes when his hands found her hips, when he bowed his head to look at her. "It's the reason why you gave me your mother's book. Why you sought me out on that first day of school." Blair's eyes glistened. "It's why you can see things in me that Nate never could. That no one ever could." She let out a breath, concentrating on her own words. "Three words. Eight letters. Say it…and I'm yours."

The silence was deafening, and his tight grip was the only thing anchoring her to the ground. She waited what felt like an eternity, her heart racing as he parted his lips. "I…" She watched him, watched his throat constrict and his eyes water. And then she knew. She could see it in the way tears lit up his eyes, the way his hold on her faltered. Chuck would never say it. He _could never _say it.

"Let me go," Blair suddenly demanded, pulling away from him.

"Blair – "

"Don't." She shook her head, swallowing down the bit of pride she had left. "Just...come back to school, Chuck." Blair hid her face, turning away from him to wipe the tears on her cheeks. "You shouldn't prove your father right on all accounts."

And then he watched her walk away.

**Much like our favorite classics, it looks like this story is bound to be a tragedy. It's only a shame that I won't be present for the final act. **

**Or will I? Maybe it's time to bid adieu to the Upper East Side in search of a fresh set of scandals. I hear that a certain boarding school upstate is holding a load of secrets, just waiting to be revealed. And who better to do the job than me?**

**Hold on tight. It's going to be a long year.**

**xoxo, Gossip Girl**

* * *

**Author's Note: **First of all, I deeply apologize for the delay! As a lot of you can probably relate to, I've been swamped with college work over the past few weeks, and it took me forever to finish this chapter. I was literally writing it by sentence during my ten-minute breaks. All of that said, I hope this was satisfying enough to make up for the wait! This story is all about twists and turns, so I decided to throw some new things into the mix. As always, don't forget to review. Even if it's only a sentence, it helps me get a sense of what parts of the story you guys really like, and where I should take the plot from there. In other words, it helps me figure out the chapter much sooner! So yeah. See you guys soon.


	10. Match Point: Part One

**Chapter Ten: Match Point **

**(Part One)**

_Love is like a sin, my love,_

_For the ones that feel it the most._

_Look at her with her eyes like a flame_

_She will love you like a fly will never love you again._

_It's unfortunate that when we feel a storm,_

_We can roll ourselves over when we're uncomfortable._

_Oh well, the devil makes us sin, but we like it when we're spinning in his grip._

**- Massive Attack by Paradise Circus.**

:::

There is an awful tendency that human beings have to fall back into old habits, rememorize failed patterns because they still feel almost as nice as they once did. We seek solace in comfort, and comfort in the darkest crevices of our lives. Toxic always has tasted so sweet.

Which was why he missed her – completely, wholly, and irrevocably. Blair Waldorf had stolen bits and pieces of Chuck, rewritten his misery into something he craved liked nothing else. He'd only seen her when he returned home on the last night of break. Love-soaked blood ran through his veins, and her scent clouded him, the memory of her weight atop him, her heady moans persistent in his ear.

But gravity was a cruel reminder that, without Blair, he was still tethered to the ground.

And so he'd rolled over in bed, made a call warning of his return to Briar, kept his mind on her as he masochistically played Audrey Hepburn movies on his television. He watched as Holly Golightly curled up against Fred's side, her cheek pressed to his chest. Expletives slipped under his breath as he imagined Blair in her signature little nightie, doing just that in his own bed.

"Did I hear you correctly?" Bart had growled into the phone once he had finally picked up. "Actually making an effort not to be such a disappointment, huh?"

Chuck stayed silent.

"It's for the girl, isn't it?" Bart laughed. "You're just as foolishly in love with her as she is with you."

"All you need to concern yourself with is that I'm returning to Briar," Chuck spat. "The rest is none of your business. Forget that you ever met Blair. If you so much as cross paths with her again, you'll regret it."

"Hm," Bart mused, but his tone was crisp and cold. "They all leave in the end, Son." Chuck winced at the threat, at the intention of his father's words. "I'll be awaiting your fall."

Chuck laughed then, a cutting chuckle. "Not if yours comes first."

There was a pensive pause. "Say hello to your little girlfriend for me, Charles."

_Click._

After all, there's a reason why we are often caught playing with fire, although we know how it burns.

:::

_January 3__rd__, 2008: The Courtyard_

**_Narchibald: _**_Hey, doing ok?_

**_DStJean: _**_Yeah. J_

**_Narchibald: _**_Really liked hanging with u over break. Ur incredible_

**_DStJean: _**_Yeah? I – _

"Slut."

Diana's phone fell in her surprise, plastic snapping against hardwood as the crowd of boys shuffled past her table. Her stomach turned at the all-too familiar voice. She narrowed her eyes at Harrison, who drummed his fingers on her lone table as he passed by, his lips lifted into a cruel smirk. The other guys with him laughed with raised eyebrows and knowing glances.

Diana pinched herself under the table.

"Why don't you fuck off," she muttered with an empty smile, "and go back to playing football so that you have an excuse to fondle each other?"

"Whatever, slut," Harrison repeated, leaning down to level with her. Diana jerked away, sitting back in her seat. "Have fun making your rounds around campus." He grinned at her as he sauntered off, an irritating swagger in his step. She let out the breath she'd been holding, forced herself not to remember the bruises painted on her skin, the ones etched permanently underneath. She cursed when her phone's screen swept with black at a dead battery and dropped her head in her hands.

It was odd, the salvation she'd found in hanging around the Vanderbilt manor with Nate on those last days of winter vacation. She hadn't told him, and he never asked, just taught her how to play lacrosse and told her stories about New York City until the sun set and she could rewrite Harrison's harsh breath in her ear, his fingers yanking her hair back.

Diana let out a breath. Saying goodbye to Nate had been harder than she thought it would be.

"You won't tell me where you're from…" Nate had stated as he wrapped his jumper around her shoulders. "Or where you're going after this. I'm starting to think that my grandfather employed you to keep me here." He was walking her home, their final walk before reality hit.

'Wouldn't you like to know?" Diana had retorted, allowing herself to fall into Nate's ruffled hair, his lax attitude. As the St. Jean manor came into view, she found herself slowing down, kicking grass with the heel of her shoe. "This is me…" She trailed off when Nate's lips descended upon hers, kissing her once, carefully and soundly.

"Oh," Diana had whispered against his lips. "This isn't why I came here…"

"Really?" Nate had chuckled. "Was it that bad?"

Diana cocked her head to the side, glancing down at Nate's lips. "No," she whispered. "It wasn't bad at all." Diana struggled to hold onto the memory of him as she picked at the garden salad on her plate. But Harrison's booming laughter from across the room shattered Nate's words, and she slumped back in her seat.

"Hey, are you…" the small voice trailed off, beckoning Diana to look up. "Are you okay?" Diana stared up at Jenny in disbelief, watching the blonde lean on one foot, twirling a strand of blonde hair around one of her fingers. She looked nothing like the little girl stepping on Blair's tail before break, so desperate to fit in. Her blonde hair was swept up now, the diamonds on her new headband kissing naturally sun-soaked highlights.

"J," Diana whispered, straightening up. The two stared at each other for a long, torturous moment. "Merry Christmas," she finally offered in a weak voice, realizing how pathetic she sounded. Jenny nodded, awkwardly shuffling to her other foot.

"Right…" Jenny chirped, already preparing for her exit. "Well – "

"Oh, good," Blair cut in, suddenly appearing behind Jenny. She dropped her books on the table, her brown curls falling loose from her ponytail as she sat across from Diana. "You two cut the catfight." Blair rolled her eyes, pulling open her clean purple binder. "I don't need to worry about a war on the home front when my knock-off thinks she can reclaim _my _throne." The three girls glanced at Penelope, who was perched on a tabletop, flicking her hair back as she talked to a few girls.

"Actually – " Jenny started, hesitating as she looked at Diana's hopeful expression. "We're not really talking."

"Sit, Humphrey," Blair ordered.

"But, I – "

"_Jenny_," Blair warned, eyeing the girl until she cracked under her glare, obediently taking the seat beside her, right across from Diana. Jenny averted her eyes, hanging on Blair's words as Diana made a desperate attempt to catch her attention. But Blair was oblivious to it all as she continued, "Something must be done about Penelope. She's _such _a – "

"Bitch," Jenny and Diana chorused, eyes widening when they said the word in harmony. Diana smirked and Jenny blushed.

"A leech," Blair corrected. "A creature that sticks where it's unwanted. And God, she came back from break _orange_. Everyone knows that winter calls for a healthy natural glow – _not _the coloring of a tinted cheese snack."

"Which is why she'll never be queen?" Jenny offered, picking at her fruit salad.

"Regardless," Blair sighed. "I need to make a point." She spread out sheets of paper across the table, shoving away Diana and Jenny's trays. The girls stared down at the color samples, decorations, and playlists. "And the Winter Formal is the perfect venue to do so." Blair smiled to herself, forcing the varying shades of gold and flyer draw-ups to distract her from the fresh memories plaguing her mind. "I'll be the perfect coordinator, wear the perfect dress, and have the _perfect _date." She punctuated each sentence, glossed lips pursing in pleasure.

As she spoke, Jenny frowned at the mess of sheets and lifted one in the air. "What's this?"

"The list of boys who've petitioned to have me on their arms at the formal," Blair chirped, snatching the list from Jenny's curious hand. "But it's already been decided." Diana and Jenny watched as Blair tapped her finger atop a name at the bottom of the list.

_Harrison Callahan._

"_No_," Diana choked out, yanking the list from Blair's hand.

"_What _is your problem?" Blair snapped, straightening out the crumpled sheet as Diana stared at her in horror. Jenny frowned as Diana shook her head, hands shaking before she dropped them under the table.

"Don't go with Harrison," Diana pleaded.

"Don't go with the handsome, smart, athletic son of the most wealthy aristocrats in the North Eastern region?" Blair asked, incredulous. "Not happening."

Diana searched for a reason, suddenly desperate. "I used to date him. I…" She paused. "What happened to girl code?"

Jenny raised her eyebrows, quietly murmuring, "You're not actually going to take it there, are you?"

"I…" Diana trailed off, skin burning red under Blair's pissed-off glare and Jenny's judging words. "I'm sorry." She shoved her cardigan on and gathered food wrappers on her tray as she got up. "I have to go. But, B…" Diana reached out, her hand slipping over Blair's atop the table. "Find another date. _Any _other date. Trust me."

And then she walked off to skip class, smoke a cigarette, and make a call to a sandy-haired boy in Manhattan – the only person who could hear her screaming.

:::

_January 3__rd__, 2008: The Briar House Assembly Hall_

"Well, you completely fucked me over," Damien stated as he and Chuck sat back against the back row of the assembly hall. "I should hate you." Chuck regarded his friend carefully, assessing his blank tone. As students filtered in for the obligatory post-break assembly, Damien rolled his eyes and proffered a flask from his blazer, offering it to Chuck in silent acceptance. "But, I'm guessing that the headmistress already let you have it." Damien raised his eyebrows. "Which is punishment enough."

"Let's just say that the headmistress can easily be won over by an ounce of Bacardi and a generous donation to her vacation tally." Chuck raised the flask to cheer himself on, and Damien shot an incredulous look at the guy he deigned to call his best friend. He'd once thought that Chuck was embedded with metal – a snarky, suave tin man whose oil was liquor. But looking at him now, he saw a sliver of emotion threaded across his hard features.

_Feeling._

"You okay?" Damien asked, not knowing exactly what else to ask.

Chuck shook the look from his face, offering up a half-hearted smirk. "This calls for a Lost Weekend, funded by Bart Bass himself." Chuck skimmed the silver plastic AmEx in his pant pocket. "You and I, Dalgaard, are heading into the city this weekend." Chuck leaned back. "For pure, unadulterated debauchery."

Damien shook his head, unsure of the sudden shift in conversation. "Right, because everything gets solved by booze and women."

Chuck shrugged, parting his lips in assent, but his words cut off the minute he caught sight of a bright red bow threaded into chestnut brown curls across the room. The drink shook in his hand, threatening to spill over.

_I'll fix you, Chuck._

The room tilted, his heart swerved, and she locked eyes with him the moment he saw her. Chuck watched as Blair's eyes widened, and she immediately stumbled back for support. Behind her, a boy placed a hand on the small of her back. He bore a crutch under one arm, his blonde hair unceremoniously slicked back.

Ethan.

"Did she know you were coming back?" Damien's voice shattered Chuck's blind rage. He waved his friend off. Apparently, Blair was as fine of a player as he was. He'd expected to easily draw her back into his game upon his return, to forget the way her features had crumpled when she walked away from him in Central Park. But it looked like she had found a different league.

"Blair and Ethan," Damien tried again. "Do you think…"

"Dalgaard," Chuck cut in, his expression darkened. "As much as I enjoy the mindless chatter, I have business to attend to."

"Business?"

Chuck watched as Blair regained her footing and shot a knowing smile at him. "Business." He swallowed down bile as she wrapped her hand around Ethan's arm. Ethan glanced up in confusion, then relaxed when he realized they were putting on a show for Chuck. Blair was grateful when Ethan pulled her to his side, stroking her arm as they found their seats in the left wing.

"Thank you," Blair whispered as they settled in, and Ethan's arm dropped around her shoulders. She felt Chuck's eyes on her, felt him glaring as she bit down on her lips until she drew blood.

"Sure. As long as you know what you're doing," Ethan murmured. He paused for a moment, glancing around the room. "And you haven't…I mean, he hasn't…"

"Eric won't talk about it," Blair interrupted knowingly. "Honestly, it's time that you stop frolicking in the closet and_ talk_ to him. If he continues to mope, I'm holding you accountable."

"He won't talk to me," Ethan huffed. "He's not – " Ethan quieted when he realized that he'd lost Blair's attention to the spectacle across the room. Her brow crinkled as Chuck pulled some giggling freshman into the seat beside his, keeping his eyes on Blair as he placed his hand on the girl's knee.

"I hate him," Blair spat, swiveling in her seat. Ethan chuckled, rolling his eyes at the power play unfurling before him.

"You don't hate him," Ethan argued, squeezing her shoulder.

Blair pouted, silently affirming his statement. No, she couldn't even fathom hating Chuck Bass, as appealing as the thought was. As the crowd silenced and the headmistress stepped up to the podium, Blair whispered, "He's still a bastard."

:::

After Blair had sufficiently seethed through the entirety of the dreadfully boring assembly, subtly searching for any wind of movement coming from Chuck's seat through her peripheral vision, she'd decided that she had enough. She left Ethan in Diana's hands, storming up the room's wooden steps as the girl whispered something in Chuck's ear.

"Waldorf, what a – "

Blair dismissed his leer and turned to the girl instead. "You're excused."

"But…"

"Leave _now_," Blair demanded. "Or do you need a written dismissal?" The girl's eyes widened as she shot up from her seat, dodging Blair's glare to find safety at the front of the room. Once she was a safe distance away, Blair turned to Chuck. "Scotch for breakfast?" she scoffed, swallowing the persistent lump in her throat as she plucked the cold flask from Chuck's hand. "Healthy." Blair rolled her eyes as the thinning crowd of students dispersed around them. He said nothing as she tucked it into her purse, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. The action made the thin white fabric of her Oxford pull tightly over her curves.

He swallowed, his eyes darkening. Blair parted her lips to acknowledge his return, but he cut her off just as quickly. "What the hell was that?" At his question, they both glanced at Ethan, who was paying no attention to them as he waved a crutch in the air, laughing with a gaggle of students.

"What I do doesn't concern you anymore," Blair retorted, casting a glare at the mousy sophomore he'd just been chatting up. Her cheeks tinted red when turned to face him again, the corners of her lips dropping down when her eyes met his. "Besides, I'm only following _your _lead." Blair pursed her lips. "That was what you wanted, wasn't it? To drag me down until I was just as twisted as you are? You started this four months ago."

Chuck narrowed his eyes at her accusation, stepping closer to her. "There were twists in you before you stepped foot on this campus, Waldorf. And you know that," Blair's eyes widened when his head dipped low, the scent of invading her senses and pulling her under. "We can play for as long as you want. But you and I both know that no one else can shatter that façade of yours like I do." Chuck let out a purposeful breath near her neck, raising the hairs there. "Tell me, when was the last time your screams emptied your throat until you couldn't speak?" Blair's mouth dropped open, her eyes darting wildly around the emptied assembly hall. She stumbled back, and he followed. But Chuck didn't have to touch her to electrify every inch of her skin. "When was the last time you were touched the way I touch you? Caressed, pulled, scratched – " his voice deepened, "explored? Every part of you sings for _me_, Blair. You _need _this."

"_No."_ Blair gasped when his hand reached out for her hip, and she jerked away from him. "How _dare _you? You don't get to do this." Her eyes narrowed in the sudden darkness. The lights had been shut off in the back row the y were perched in, and the ambiance was intoxicating. The way the shadows hit his jaw, how his eyes lit in the darkness – it weakened her to a point of resentment. "Not after…" Blair shook her head, refusing to think of their meeting at the duck pond.

His hard expression cracked for a moment. "I've apologized – "

"Being sorry isn't enough," Blair hissed, hitching her bag on her shoulder. "You knew what was, and you couldn't even say it."

"Blair – "

"But that's not important anymore." She steadied her breath, her chilled demeanor as icy as ever. "You were wrong, Chuck," Blair lied, avoiding his eyes as she recited the words she'd dreamt of saying to him on the night he'd left her. "I don't need you." Chuck watched as she took a breath before reaching into her bag, her manicured fingers surfacing with a familiar black book. "I don't need anything from you."

"Give it a rest, Waldorf. I know that you're lying," he argued, although he wasn't so sure. Chuck refused the book, reaching out to curl his fingers around her wrist. The touch stung, and Blair froze as his hand slipped across her skin. "You're trying to hurt me like I hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me," Blair stated, allowing herself one more moment of delicious torture – of his skin scalding hers. "I'm Blair Waldorf." He frowned as she pulled back, bracing herself to leave. "And it's going to take more than Chuck Bass to break me."

Chuck swallowed, and Blair spun around on her way out, leaving his book behind on an abandoned seat –

Lest it give away her lie.

:::

_January 5__th__, 2008: The Student Lounge, The Main Hall_

_A glooming peace this morning with it brings;_

_The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head:_

_Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;_

_Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:_

"For never was a story of more woe," came Damien's voice. "Than this of Juliet and her Romeo." Jenny gasped, then frowned at the intruder. Her tiny form was curved into one of the alcoves behind the lounge, the dim firelight yellowing the pages of the Shakespeare anthology in her hands. Shadowed flames danced across Damien's features, and she made her best attempt at a poker face. In truth, her heart quaked with leftover adoration, but her mind fumed in pure hatred. She wanted to think that when he'd decided she was enough for him, it was the truth. But she could only picture Diana's long tanned limbs hooked around his waist, their lips locked in a passionate embrace.

Jenny was suddenly nauseous.

"What…?" Jenny trailed off. "You remember the words?"

Damien relaxed when she acknowledged his presence and shrugged one shoulder. "I worked my ass off on that play to impress you." He adjusted the collar of his white shirt, smiling at her. "I wanted you to think I was some smart guy – "

"You _are _smart," Jenny affirmed, instantly despising herself for it. _He doesn't deserve compliments_, she thought to herself. Her light features hardened slightly. "What are you doing here, Damien? You need to stop sneaking up on me."

"I know…I'm sorry," Damien quickly replied, leaning against the wooden arch in front of her. "I know that you know…" He coughed. "Diana and I…"

"Please don't," Jenny murmured. "Honestly, I'm so sick of talking about it. If this is what your world is like – constantly holding grudges and dwelling on the past – it's too exhausting." She ran her fingers through the soft blond curls draped over her shoulders. "I want to move on."

"Right," Damien nodded. Jenny expected him to leave her alone then, but instead, she saw him reach into the pocket of his pants, surfacing with a dangling brass object, glimmering in front of her. Jenny squinted at it as he held it up. "My father's watch. The clasp you gave me worked," he explained to her, sliding it onto his wrist. "You're the only one who remembers what things mean…Everyone else here just wants to forget."

Jenny sighed, staring down at the watch. "What are you doing?"

"Thanking you," Damien said. He knelt on the ground, careful not to touch her when he leaned forward, the whisper of his breath making amends with the flush on her cheek. "I know that you think I didn't see you, and maybe I didn't. Not at first." Jenny closed her eyes as he spoke. "But I'm looking at you now, and I see the best thing that's ever come into my life. You're so _good_, Jenny. And I don't give a shit about your last name or mine, about Chuck and Blair's games, or anybody else." Damien dared to touch her cheek with the tip of his fingers. "I think I...I _know _that I love you."

Her eyes were wide, her heart alert. "Damien, you can't – "

"I can," Damien affirmed. "And I do."

"I…I don't feel the same way," Jenny said, not intending to sound mean, but completely honest. Damien was unshaken, nodding his head as he got up, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"I know. You don't have to…" Damien shrugged his shoulder again, grinning. "I just want to be your friend. I just want whatever you'll give me." Jenny stared at him, astonished as Damien spoke to her over his shoulder. "And I'm going to prove that you can fall in love with me too."

"Damien…"

"You will," Damien affirmed as he disappeared from sight. "One day." And there was that feeling again – partial hatred burning inside of her. She wanted to tell him off, wanted to crush his snarky confidence –

But, for some reason, she found herself smiling long after he was gone.

:::

_January 10__th__, 2008: The Main Hall_

She wanted him.

Blair bit down on her lip – a terrible habit she'd developed upon tangling herself with a certain Bass – and clicked her silver ballpoint twice in frustration. She was vaguely aware of the chatter all around her, as the Winter Formal's planning committee was in session. But the color samples made her think of the ridiculous rainbow of bowties in his closet, including the black one that had hung loosely around his neck when he'd pulled her to behind the school, his big hands grasping her thighs, finding purchase under her ass to –

Blair's pen slipped from her fingers. _She wanted him so badly. _And it was going to kill her.

"I'm sorry, Blair," Penelope hissed from the other head of the long conference table. "Am I boring you?" Blair narrowed her eyes and the slow burn in her stomach evaporated. The other girl raised her eyebrows in challenge.

"No more than usual, Penelope," Blair snapped. It was time to shake the torturous tick that was Chuck Bass and focus on the task at hand. Yes, she wanted him. But since they'd waged an impromptu war on each other, she'd swallowed down her desire and clung onto Ethan to keep up her charade. In turn, Chuck found revenge by hanging around the freshmen when Blair had her yogurt dates with Jenny by the balcony.

"Say it again," the girls had cooed, hands on his shoulders, practically swooning when the smoke from his cigarette spilled from his lips. Jenny let out a whispered _oh no _as she watched Blair's expression, practically hearing the tick of a bomb as her friend fumed.

"I'm Chuck Bass," he drawled, barely letting out his last name before a fit of irritating giggles ensued. They nearly jumped him, pushing him back against the balcony as Chuck shot Blair an amused expression. Blair let out a silent breath before she smiled back, lips curling into two dimples ,and raised her left hand to lift her manicured middle finger in the air.

"_Blair_," Jenny had whispered, shocked at her crassness. "What was that?" She followed as Blair shot up from her seat, her heels clicking on the hardwood, her brown curls leaving a storm in her wake.

Blair huffed, casting one last look at Chuck's little spectacle on the balcony. "I hope he falls."

"_Blair_." Penelope's voice snapped her back to the present. Blair rolled her eyes as the room's attention turned to her. "Are you even listening to me?"

"I often try not to," Blair smirked.

"If I have to share the head chair of this board with you," Penelope snapped, "you're going to have to stop being such a raging bitch."

"Penelope," Blair replied, her tone as condescending as it would be if she were speaking to a toddler. "Why are you even here?"

Penelope frowned. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Blair confirmed. "You're unneeded. While you've spent the hour doodling infantile hearts in your notebook under the guise of actual notes, _we've _already had the entire event planned for weeks." Jenny nodded, placing Blair's notebooks on the table, and Diana looked up from her phone, taking a break from her marathon of texts.

"I didn't confirm this," Penelope argued as Blair handed out her proposal to the rest of the table.

"You didn't have to," Blair said. "We've left the era in which people actually care what you think, haven't we?" Penelope fumed as the room buzzed with excitement, the other girls pouring over the pages of Blair's proposal as if it were an issue of Italian Vogue. A masquerade," Blair announced. "And the theme is Saints and Sinners. It'll be a night of anonymous gallivanting. Be whomever you'd like: an angel drawn to the dark side, a devil redeemed. Masks stay on until midnight, when the illusions shatters and you must choose to abandon your sins or burn along with them."

"Oh my God," Kimberly Adams, who usually hung on Penelope's every word, whispered. "This is so epic."

"Of course it is," Diana stated. "A true queen planned it."

Penelope shot her a look, but was quickly lost in the flurry of questions and praises – all directed at Blair. When the meeting adjourned, and Blair's idea was quickly approved, the girls followed after her, eager to talk masks and costumes. Penelope sat on her own for a long moment after they were gone, drumming her fingernails on the emptied table. She heard the bell ring, heard students chattering as they made their way to class, and she stood up to go too. That was, until she caught the flash of a tiny black screen across the room – an abandoned phone covered by a white Chanel case. Could it be…?

Penelope picked it up and, sure enough, a clean white print of Audrey Hepburn illuminated the screen. The phone was left unlocked, and texts were already rushing in, from Diana, from Jenny, and Eric.

And Penelope had them all in the palm of her hands.

:::

_January 12__th__, 2008: The Dexter Hall Dormitories_

"Blair?" Mrs. Reginald called, eyes wide. Blair, who had shaken her recently expanded gaggle of followers, stood at the counselor's door, arms wrapped around herself. In the dim room, she suddenly felt exhausted. Her mind was hazy, and her body sagged forward, invisible bricks piling on her postured shoulder. She was always trying so hard, in a way that other girls, girls like Serena, never had to. She was nonchalant for Chuck, flawless for her mother, fearless for her friends. But on her own, those bricks crumbled, scattered debris across her pristine life, and brought her down to her knees.

Brought her down to the bathroom floor.

"Blair, sit down, please," Mrs. Reginald insisted, guiding Blair by her elbows, helping her to the chaise in the corner. Blair shook her head, refusing to be weak, but she was paralyzed in her place. She flinched when the woman hugged Blair's shoulders, patting her arm to soother her. "Blair, can you hear me? Do you need me to call the nurse?"

"She wouldn't be able to fix it," Blair stated, her voce wavering. She glanced at Mrs. Reginald, her flustered cheeks now pink and ruddy. Gone was the dictating girl who'd stormed into her office and given her attitude at the beginning of the school year. Now, Blair Waldorf looked much like a princess who'd grown tiresome of playing queen. "They say that it's a broken heart, but I hurt in my whole body." Blair's eyes glistened as she spoke, a thin hand clutching the fabric wrapped over her body. "If I had known that he would rip me apart this way…" Blair choked on her breath, shaking her head. "I'm supposed to be _Blair Waldorf_. But, with him, I'm never sure of what that means."

"Blair," Mrs. Reginald began. "Just calm down. You shouldn't – "

"I did it again," Blair admitted, closing her eyes, welcoming the silence in the room. "I didn't want to. I was resolved _not _to." She sounded insane, and she probably was. He'd probably driven her there. "I just wanted to reach in and pull this feeling out of myself. Because scars are supposed to be on the inside." Her lips parted, bitterness on her tongue. "People aren't supposed to leave burn marks on your heart. But he did."

"Blair."

The sound of his voice hit her like a slap in the face. As a lone tear travelled across her skin, her eyes snapped open, and she jumped away from Mrs. Reginald's arms. She finally saw Chuck, sitting back in the chair across the room, his features twisted in what could only be pain. Blair shook, tremors hitting her body, shaking her head in disbelief. "No."

"Blair, wait," Mrs. Reginald began.

"He was _here_?" Blair spat.

"Blair, this is Chuck's appointed hour," Mrs. Reginald started, her voice calm. "I wasn't expecting you to arrive. But now that you have, we can make progress. We can discuss the issues you have with Charles – "

"You're delusional," Blair snapped before shoving through the door. She heard Mrs. Reginald call out for her, followed by heavy footsteps that were sure to be Chuck's. So she picked up her pace, stealthily balanced on her heels, the back of her skirt brushing her thighs as she turned a corner, any corner, to get away from him. But just as she ducked into the alley that led into the dorms, she felt a warm hand on her wrist, yanking her back against Chuck's front. Blair struggled, but he refused to release her, his harsh breath stinging the back of her neck.

"You made me a promise, Blair."

"_Stop _it."

"Just fucking talk to me," Chuck rasped, his voice echoing in the narrow hall. They were in the place they had first kissed that year, when she followed him out there. Blair spun in his arms, the emotion in her eyes betraying her cutting tone.

"You're the last person I want to talk to, Bass," Blair said. "Go catch up with one of your whores."

"So that you can parade Ethan – "

"Ethan is _gay_," Blair practically yelled, shoving his hands away. Chuck stood in shock as she pulled away, stumbling back. "God, Chuck. Don't you understand? All I wanted was you. I fought for _you_, even after you left. So excuse me if I'm exhausted."

_Silence._

Chuck watched her, and she hated him, hated him for being so relentless. "Merrick is gay," Chuck finally repeated. Blair groaned, clapping a hand over her parted lips. Chuck watched her, his eyes sparking with interest. "I knew that you were lying." The walls closed in as he stepped closer. "You still care."

"I don't." Blair shook her head. "That's not the point."

"You do," Chuck insisted, but Blair was indignant. She let out a whimper when his fingers found purchase in the curve of her hips, pulling her in. "Why," Chuck growled, his white dress shirt brushing hers as he backed her into the wall, a terrible a dance that she never wanted to end, "are you torturing me, Waldorf?" He was so close to her that when she laughed, the action was nearly fatal – his lips brushed hers and they shared a breath. The contact lit a flame inside Chuck that burned straight to Blair.

"Me torturing you?" Blair whispered. "I wonder who I learned it from." A breath caught in Chuck's throat when her lips brushed his again, and he closed his eyes, breathing her in. "We torture each other because it's easy." Every word came with a fragile, broken kiss, until Chuck snapped, his jaw twitching when he caught her lips with his. It was not gentle, nor was it near satisfying. Chuck had always thought the act of kissing drunken harlots to be irritating and sloppy – but with Blair, he wanted more. He looked at her, and he saw an obsession – eating at his bones, forcing him to want her with every passing second. The pieces of Chuck were much too jagged to mold into anyone else's.

Anyone but Blair.

"Don't do this," Chuck ordered. "You're going to lose." His mouth was open, his teeth found skin, and his tongue slid across hers until she broke away, gasping,

"Because you can't tell me," she continued, ignoring his words as a haze of twisted lust hit her. She kissed him again, bit down on his full bottom lip. "Because you don't – "

"Because I don't _what_?" Chuck lifted her legs, pulling her from the ground, wrapping them around his waist. Blair gasped, digging her nails into his shoulders in retaliation.

"You _know_ what."

Chuck pulled away then, clearly having set a trap that Blair hadn't even been aware of. "You can't say it either."

Her lips dropped open. "Excuse me?"

"You can't say it, Blair," Chuck challenged. He dropped her back on the ground, her feet planted right on the concrete beneath them. But he barred her there with hands on either side of her head. "If it should be so easy for me…Then it's a simple enough task for the queen."

"This is stupid," Blair whispered. "Why would I say it to somebody who won't say it in return?"

"Because you're afraid," Chuck claimed. "But this can all be over if you just…" Blair trembled when he leaned forward. "Tell me that you love me."

They both recoiled from the sting of his words. Blair had said the phrase to Nate countless of times – on the phone, making out in his mother's sitting room until she'd stop him from reaching under her shirt. And now Chuck Bass was luring it from her tongue like music to a serpent. She ached to say it – ached to push him there.

She loved him.

But she couldn't trust him.

But before she could speak, Chuck cut her off, backing away from the wall. "Tonight." His eyes darkened as the tables turned. "Let's see if your bark is as big as your bite."

:::

_January 15__th__, 2008: The Saints and Sinners Ball_

Snow fell on the night of the formal – cloaking the campus in a blanket of pure white despite the darkness inside. The grand halls were draped in red and black and candles burned, students were riled with excitement, pressing masks to flushed faces, tying corsets tight over curves, drawing slick ties around necks. Even the chaperones were lost in the lure of bad behavior. _It was going to be a night to remember forever_.

In the boys' dormitories, Ethan hobbled on one crutch, his white tux casting an angelic glow beside his blonde hair, his light eyes. He was done with this purgatory. And now, for Eric, he would be a saint.

Chuck, in the room down the hall, tied a red bow around his neck, slicking his hair back before tucking a silk scarlet cloth into his front pocket. He glanced up at his buzzing phone, pulling it from his desk in the corner. His stomach shifted when he saw Blair's name.

_I'll take off my mask if you will._

_Meet me at midnight._

Chuck grinned before shutting his door behind him.

In the girls' dormitories, Diana painted her arms with concealer, flinching when her fingertips came in contact with the weak skin on her upper arms. She was neither a saint nor a sinner that night – dressed in plain black with a thin white mask covering one side of her face – she was only human.

At the same time, Jenny bit her lip as she tugged on her white gown, watching as it pooled around her feet.

"When you're done having a love affair with your reflection," Blair called, the eye roll evident in her tone, "You can come help me with my dress." Jenny sighed as she went to help Blair, who was holding deep red fabric against her chest, the zipper open at her back, revealing the bustier she had on underneath. Jenny carefully zipped her up, then gasped.

"Blair, you look…" Jenny trailed off, appraising her friend. "You look amazing." Blair smiled, adjusting the brown curls around her face. She reached for the mask on her nightstand, slipping the intricate cover of black spirals over her face. She looked like the queen of hearts – sinister and beautiful. As always, it left Jenny a bit nervous.

"Hey guys…" Diana cut off when she burst into the room, her eyes trained on Blair. "Jesus, B. You look perfect." Blair soaked in the compliments, offering a little twirl as Diana and Jenny giggled and golf clapped. But as Jenny finally grabbed her clutch and they made their way to leave, Blair paused.

"Have either of you seen my phone?" Blair frowned. She shook her head. "I've been so busy planning…" She suddenly felt panicked at the minor detail. If anything went wrong…If her queendom were to falter –

"B, don't worry," Diana assured her. "We'll find it later. The reception here is so shitty during snowstorms anyway – you probably wouldn't be able to use it." Blair hesitated before nodding, casting a glance at the world of white outside. She finally nodded, switching the light off before following the two girls out of the room.

_Of course _she had nothing to worry about.

Minutes later, they arrived in the ballroom, where the lights were dimmed, the ceiling-to-floor windows revealing the expanse of snowy night outside. Red sashes billowed from the walls, and the bar served red drinks and clear ones – all spiked with fine brandy, thanks to Damien and Chuck. After heeding Diana's annoying warning, she'd decided to go to the formal with Diana and Jenny. But it felt amazing, to stand at the head of the room, to watch students tangle with others, slipping through corridors, dancing much too scandalously for any other Briar venue. Blair reveled in the moment, basking in the daunting ballad being played by the band at the front of the room.

_Got a secret._

_Can you keep it?_

_Swear this one you'll save._

_Better lock it in your pocket,_

_Taking this one to the grave._

As Jenny departed from her trio to get something to drink, she slipped through the darkness, smiling behind her mask as her shoulders brushed with others. Just as she reached the bar, the hem of her dress caught on something, pulling her back.

"Do you know how good you look?"

Jenny flushed at Damien's voice, grateful she was still turned away from him. She turned to him, allowing a smile to slip, one that mirrored his own. She stilled when he grabbed her hand, taking it gingerly and raising it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, his black mask slipping for a moment as he bowed his head. When he sat up straight, they both stared at each other, until Jenny burst out laughing.

"What was that?" Jenny giggled over the music. Damien narrowed his eyes before laughing along with her. He slung an arm around her bare shoulders, guiding her out onto the dance floor, placing a drink in her hand.

"I'm charming you," Damien whispered, catching her lower back with one hand, dipping her low until her hair brushed the floor. She lost her breath when he pulled her up again, swaying to the music, raising the goblet of punch to her lips. When Jenny hesitated, he whispered, "Don't worry. It's not spiked. I made sure." Jenny nodded, taking a sip.

"Damien," Jenny began. "Look…This doesn't mean…"

"It means we're friends, right?" Damien cut her off, gently raising his hand to cup the back of her head, holding her to his shoulder. "Friends sharing a dance." Jenny closed her eyes, pressing her cheek to the soft material of his suit jacket.

"Friends," Jenny repeated. And she whispered the words under her breath again and again as she held onto his shoulders – even after the song ended and they danced for three more sets.

But as her feet grew tired and their dance had become a still embrace in the middle of the room, Diana caught Jenny's eye from across the room. The blonde frowned, watching as her ex-friend drank from a glass of what had to be vodka. The mischievous gleam was gone from her eyes, and all that was left was emptiness. Jenny pulled away, extricating herself from Damien's arms.

"I have to go."

"Go?" Damien asked, holding her elbow. "I'll walk you."

"No," Jenny murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder to hold him back. "This isn't about you. That's how this whole mess started." Jenny shook her head sadly. "It was never about you, Damien. My friend needs me." She pressed a kiss to his cheek before walking to the corner of the room, where she stopped and placed a hand on Diana's shoulder, waiting for her to look up. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, J," Diana shrugged, downing the rest of her glass. "You two…look really good out there." She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "You should have fun." Jenny shook her head, kneeling on the ballroom floor, even though the act was sure to ruin her dress. She leaned over, hugging Diana's knees with her arms.

"Tell me what's wrong," Jenny insisted, her blue eyes going wide. "I'm here." Diana wavered, hesitating before taking Jenny's hand and holding it in her lap. All around them, students were having fun, dancing with each other, filling the room with laughter. Diana squeezed tight, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

"Jenny," Diana started, shaking her head as more tears came. "I have to tell you something."

_If I show you,_

_Then I know you wont tell what I said._

_Because two can keep a secret _

_If one of them is dead._

"Are you going to keep avoiding me?"

Eric whipped around at the sound of Ethan's voice. He was leaning over the balcony that led out from the ballroom. The awning overhead shielded him from the snow, but the cold was still biting. Eric, too, was wearing a white dress shirt and white pants – his half-hearted attempt at being an angel. Ethan didn't hesitate before sliding his tuxedo jacket off to drape it around Eric's shoulders.

"You don't have to do that," Eric said. He stared forward, at the snow-covered grounds before them. He could feel Ethan staring, and it unnerved him. "You and I can't be together. I told you that."

"What are we?" Ethan laughed, leaning into his crutch. "Chuck and Blair?"

Eric wanted to laugh at the joke, but he couldn't. "No. We're Ethan and Eric. And we can't be together," Eric repeated.

"What's this about?" Ethan nudged Eric's arm. "Is being my trig tutor getting that hard? We can move on to English if you want. I can sing you a sonnet."

Eric rolled his eyes and cracked a smile. "You don't sing sonnets."

"Hey. Would you look at that?" Ethan said, urgency clear in his tone. Eric glanced up, just as Ethan ducked down, capturing his lips with his. Eric's eyes widened as the boy kissed him softly, holding his face with one big hand.

"Ethan – "

"You told me," Ethan whispered. "That I'd never even kissed you…" He trailed off, smiling against his lips. "You're not using that excuse anymore, van der Woodsen."

Eric breathed out before nodding his head, falling into the kiss. He closed his eyes and leaned in, focusing only on how good Ethan smelled, on the steady pattern of his heartbeat – and not on the flash of a camera in the darkness.

Capturing everything.

_Why when do our darkest deeds do we tell?_

_They burn in our brains,_

_Become a living hell._

_Because everybody tells._

_Everybody tells._

In a haze from swallowing down brandy as if it were the virgin cocktail it appeared to be, Chuck caught the flash of red through the darkness, brown curls that were all too familiar. He stumbled forward, eyes set on his wristwatch. It was five minutes until midnight - until all of these torturous mind games would cease. Blair would be his. He parted past embracing couples and -

_"Only four minutes until masks come off, sinners and saints," _a deep voice announced through the overhead speakers. _"Flee if you must. Every face will be revealed." _Chuck smirked, ducking past a marble pillar, eyes straining to find red and brown in the shadows. He saw her again, her hand waving behind her back, beckoning him forward. He cocked his collar up, vaguely aware that the room had been set up to draw delusions, to make guests feel like they were cloaked in scarlet, swimming in silk. When Chuck lost her again, he picked up his pace, finally seeing her stop inside of a dark hall, flicking her hair over her shoulders. He braced himself, heat spreading throughout his stomach.

But something was wrong.

As Chuck turned that final corner, lifting to pull her into his arms, she turned away, and another figure surfaced behind her. Chuck froze, paralyzed as Harrison Callahan pulled her against his chest, his hand snaking down to grip her ass and hoist her up. Bile rose to his throat and ice truly did still his heart as Blair fell deeper into the kiss, her black mask pressed up against her face - even though Harrison hadn't bothered to wear his. This really was her game. And it was a move to top all others.

It was when Harrison's head dipped for her neck that Chuck tore his gaze away from the sight. His slanted red mask, a devil's face, fell to the ground, breaking with a sharp snap. He heard the faint sounds of the crowd cheering in the other room, the grandfather clocks in every corridor welcoming midnight in perfect harmony.

At the same instant, once Chuck was safely out of sight, Penelope drew Harrison in closer, peeling off the mask that was identical to Blair's as the boy trailed kisses across her skin. And though Harrison reeked of too much booze and bitter ashes, she could only taste sweet victory on her tongue.

:::

Fifteen minutes later, Chuck reached into his jacket, feeling for his flask, only to realize that Blair still had it. He cursed, preparing to find refuge in the bar hidden behind his closet back in the dorms. And then -

"Chuck?" He felt a small hand slip across his arm, and he shoved away. Blair stood before him when he turned around, confused by his reaction to her. Her hair was loose now, and her mask was off. Chuck imagined Harrison removing it from her face, kissing her where only he had before. She tried a smile, avoiding his glare as she straightened his bowtie. "Enjoying yourself?" Blair cried out when he snatched her wrist and pushed her off. She stumbled back, nearly tripping over the hem of her dress. Blood rushed under her skin, her chest flushing at his rejection. "What's wrong with you?"

"You really had me fooled, Waldorf," Chuck spat. "I'm congratulating you."

"I don't understand."

"Don't feign innocence when you've just surpassed anything that I've ever done to you," Chuck hissed. "You wanted to hurt me? You wanted to end this little charade? Well done."

"Charade?" Blair repeated, her dainty features twinging in pain. "If there's ever been a charade, it's because _you _started it."

"Me?" His laugh was cruel. "You think I started this?" He stepped towards her, eyes like coal. "Well, you just ended it."

Blair watched as he turned around and walked away from her, memorizing the curve of his shoulder blades as she had when he first left her. Chuck shoved through the doorway and left the main hall, blindly storming outside. Blair lifted the hem of her dress, following him out into the night, shivering in the frigid cold. Her heel got caught in the snow and she stumbled forward, struggling to follow him.

"_Bass_!" she screamed. They might have walked for minutes or miles – far past the grounds of the campus, through the trees and brambles until Blair was a soaked and shivering mess. And finally, they ended up in the shed where the Victors and Victrolas had first held their initiation. He shoved through the door but left it open behind him, allowing her to follow him in.

"Chuck, how dare you – " She cut off when the door whipped closed behind her, propelling them into darkness. She could only see the outline of him, and his eyes – how they always shone. She swallowed, clutching her arms, trembling. "How could you say those things? You said that tonight – "

"Tonight was the night you broke the terms of our agreement," Chuck said coldly, keeping his distance from her. He pulled out a lighter and lit a cigarette, casting shadows across the shed. "And proved to me that you were nothing more than a little girl who will throw herself into any pair of arms that will fuel her game." Chuck pursed his lips and blew out smoke. "Insolent and immature. Nothing I want."

_"_Take it back," Blair whispered.

"What a pity that you can't take back Harrison's hands pawing at your body," Chuck spat. "Tell me, Waldorf. What were you hoping to accomplish with that little text message of yours?"

"Text message? I lost my phone, Bass," Blair replied, now sounding genuinely confused. "I haven't texted _anyone _in nearly a week. And do you honestly think I would leave my duties as a hostess just to torment you?" Blair paused, stepping back. "Do you even know me at all?"

Chuck coughed, sputtering out smoke. "You lost your phone?" His face set in realization. "No. I saw you."

"You didn't _see _me," Blair corrected. "Ask anyone at the ball." She stepped back again, incredulous. "Is that honestly what you think of me?" Blair winced. "How you see me?"

"Wait…" Chuck backtracked, his mind a jumble of flashbacks. Now, the dress pulled over Blair's curves looked nothing like the one on the girl he'd seen with Harrison. And Blair's hair – it was much prettier, much longer. It was curled, not straight. "Blair – "

"I want to go," Blair whispered, turning the other way.

"Blair – " As Chuck said her name, she grabbed for the doorknob, tugging on it. But when she pulled, the wood resisted, leaving the door shut. She pulled again, then again, losing her breath as she desperately tried to get the door open. But it was to no avail.

"What's going on?" Chuck rasped, coming up behind her.

Blair pulled away, closing her eyes as her hand slipped from the knob.

"We're stuck."

**To Be Continued…**

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hey guys! As you can tell, I'm at an insanely busy point in my year, so I'm going to keep this note short! But I definitely didn't want to leave you hanging for too long, so I had to update. The support I've gotten from all of you has been amazing, and I'm so grateful for your awesome reviews. I hope that you guys continue on this journey with me and keep on letting me know what you think - hopefully I haven't disappointed anyone.

On a side note, I'll definitely be updating the rest of my series this weekend (OTS and SAS), and I'll be posting some Chair Week prompts next week - as a delayed sort of participation.


	11. Match Point: Part Two

**Chapter Eleven: Match Point **

**(Part Two)**

_I'm naked, I'm numb, I'm stupid, I'm staying.  
And if Cupid's got a gun, then he's shooting.  
Lights black, heads bang, you're my drug, we live it.  
You're drunk, you need it. Real love, I'll give it.  
So we're bound to linger on  
We drink the fatal drop, then love until we bleed.  
Then fall apart in parts  
You wasted your times on my heart, you've burned.  
And if bridges gotta fall, then you'll fall too._

**- ****_Until We Bleed_**** by Kleerup.**

:::

_January 16__th__, 2008: The Back Woods_

"There's absolutely _no one_ I hate more than I hate you, Bass."

Chuck rolled his eyes as Blair slammed the heel of her Manolo against the wooden door in a final act of protest before letting out a sharp, seething breath. Her manicured fingers uncurled from a fist, and her usually postured shoulders slumped only slightly. In the darkness, he caught pieces of her – the birthmark kissing the curve of her shoulder, the twists of damp brown curls sticking to her back. He swallowed when his eyes trailed down to her ruined dress, the wet fabric clinging to her curves, frayed at the hem.

"You know, there's a fine line between love and hate," Chuck remarked, leaning against the wall beside her. Blair tensed, unappreciative of his snarkiness, and her expression darkened to a glare that was nearly lethal. Chuck took a step back and reached for the phone in his suit pocket. The dim light cast shadows across their faces before it flickered off completely. Chuck pursed his lips, his eyes flitting up to Blair. "It's dead."

"Just as _you'll_ be dead if I'm trapped in this dank, musty hell-hole all night," Blair spat. She pushed away from the door, and dropped her face into her hands. Chuck could only watch, his fingers twitching at his sides, his chest tight in the darkness. He was anxious, had been unraveled by the mere sight of the girl before him. Blair Waldorf was tearing him to pieces, and for the first time in the dank nothingness that had been his life thus far, he was absolutely powerless.

"Aren't you going to say something?" Blair's voice broke into his twisted reverie, and he rolled his eyes again. "Aren't you going to ask me to borrow the phone that I clearly lost? Aren't you going to accuse me of skulking in shadows with another one of our class idiots? Because the last time I checked, that was your hobby."

"What would you like me to say, Waldorf?" Chuck forced his expression to be cold, his voice distant, his eyes vacant. "As if this is my ideal way to pass a Friday night." _Lie. _"When I could be slipping into oblivion." _Lie._ "When I could be taking my pick of any of the girls who'd be more than willing to – "

And then Blair slapped him for the third time in her life. The sting was sharp and Chuck recoiled. The first time, when they were only kids in Tripp Vanderbilt's bedroom, it had been a slight deterrence. The second time, when he'd dropped the bomb that had sent them spiraling into this madness, he'd barely felt it. But this hit was followed by a shove at his chest, and then another, and then –

"Jesus fucking Christ," Chuck murmured, holding her back by the tops of her arms. The rage etched onto Blair's dainty features was almost amusing, but he was smart enough to stifle the chuckle rising in his throat.

"How dare you?" Blair hissed, shoving him away. "How _dare _you say those things to hurt me?"

Chuck blinked, sliding his hands down to couple her wrists. She expected to hear some sort of sarcastic comeback that would undoubtedly enrage her, but he only swallowed hard, his throat constricting, his jaw tightening. "I'm sorry."

Blair pried her wrists away. "Tell me why, Chuck." There was a pause as he backed away from her, allowing her room to pace two steps. The wood creaked under her heels. "Is it that you think so little of me? Is it that Thanksgiving was a ploy? That those nights in the library were meaningless flurries of entertainment?"

Chuck's eyes darkened. "No."

"Then tell me how you can be so terrible to me when all I've ever done was – " Blair choked on her words, closing her eyes before tears dared to fall. Tears meant weakness, and Blair _Waldorf _could never be weak – especially not in front of Chuck Bass.

"Was what?"

Blair ignored his question. "Tell me why you're so desperately trying to destroy me – " She corrected herself, sliding a hand up to clutch her own arm. "Destroy us."

"Don't you get it?" Chuck rasped, a bitter smile on his lips. "I destroy everything I touch. Hasn't my father enlightened you on the matter?" Blair began to shake her head, remembering her conversation with Bart. "Hasn't Nathaniel joked about it? You're better off."

"I don't believe you," Blair sighed, tired of this script. "You're pushing me away like you push everyone away." Chuck's eyes flitted to hers in the darkness. "But you're not going to _save _me that way. It only hurts worse. It only cuts deeper."

His stony expression faltered for a moment. "Blair – "

Just then, the wind outside slammed against the shed, nearly rattling the walls around them. Blair jumped, then shivered, realizing that she was freezing. Her fingers shook as she made a feeble attempt at ringing out her dress, pulling it away from her wet skin. When she bent over to fuss with her hem, Blair felt hands on her waist and startled.

"Here," Chuck ordered roughly, tugging her back by the fabric. His fingers were surprisingly gentle when he lifted the curls from the back of her neck and worked through the strands with light strokes, drying as best as he could.

"I don't need your help, Bass," Blair whispered in protest. But still, her head fell back, her lips dropped open, and she closed her eyes. She let out a moan when his thumb traced the curve of her ear, then skimmed the line of her jaw. She opened her eyes, speaking to the ceiling, "All of this...you're destroying me now."

Chuck ignored her, as he was so prone to doing. Instead, he found the intricate thread of black strands at the back of her dress and untwined them until the material slackened around her. He tried to comfort her, stricken by her words, desperate to fix something that was utterly unfixable. As Blair relaxed her shoulders, Chuck remembered himself as a young boy, clutching that book in his hands, resenting his mother, his father, and everything else that came in between.

_One day, someone will force your heart open…_

"Chuck."

_You will love the way I know you can…_

"Chuck?"

He snapped out of it, tugging the last string of Blair's corset much too roughly. Blair gasped, holding the bodice to her chest as she whipped around. "_Chuck._"

"By all means," Chuck sighed. "Let's see if the queen can battle pneumonia." Chuck raised a brow as he pinched the fabric at her side. "It's wet. And you're freezing. You're not going to sit in it all night."

Blair narrowed her eyes, letting her arms drop to her sides. "And you're just invincible then?" She pointed at him. "Your suit is soaked, Bass."

"I don't get sick," Chuck smirked. He reached out for her again, and she allowed it, lifting her arms as he tugged the red fabric from her body. He made a point of dropping to his knees, following it down to the floor, ghosting over her thighs until there was nothing more to touch. But when he glanced back up…a harsh breath fell from his lips. Her negligee was barely there – black lace and thin silk, creamy thighs and a flushed chest. And then he saw it – a thread of violet weaved into the fabric over her hip. He cupped her thigh with one hand and traced the ribbon with the other.

Blair watched too, resisting the urge to smooth out his tussled dark hair.

"Blair," Chuck whispered, pulling on the purple ribbon, glancing up despite himself. "Were you going to tell me?" Chuck pursed his lips, knowing that he didn't need to explain. "Were you going to tell me tonight?"

:::

_January 16__th__, 2008: Dexter Hall Dormitories_

"Shhh," Jenny whispered, biting down on her lip. She squeezed Diana's arm before wiping away the tear that fell down her own cheek. "You have to stop crying." Diana hiccupped against the curve of the blonde's shoulder, appalled by the mess of mascara wiped across her cheeks and fingertips. Jenny's white dress was ruined and stained, but it didn't matter – nothing else had mattered after Diana whispered those three words under the pulse of the ballroom back at the Saints and Sinners party.

_He raped me_.

And now there they were, white fabric entangled with black across Jenny's bedspread as they ate from an old little box of chocolates, Diana's confession weighing in the air, even stronger than the storm battling outside. Jenny lost her appetite as Diana described that moment in the alleyway near the cafeteria – what Harrison had done to a girl she'd thought to be unbreakable. Of course, Jenny clearly remembered that afternoon before winter break. Had she not pushed Diana away – had she not said all of those horrible things…

_There's no us. _

_I don't want to have anything to do with you._

Jenny had pushed her right into Harrison's hands, and although she hadn't even had the slightest clue, all she could manage to feel was guilt.

"This doesn't happen to me," Diana murmured. "This never – " She cut off, letting out a empty sob. "I've always used guys like it was nothing. I – " Diana swallowed. "Maybe this is karma. Maybe I deserve this."

"No," Jenny stated firmly, her soft voice going as serious as it had ever been. "It's _not _your fault." Jenny's fingers, nails bitten, polish messy, stroked Diana's shoulder with kindness. Diana realized that, out of all of them, Jenny had come out unscathed. She had a mother who loved her, a father who made her breakfast every morning, a brother to protect her…she had a home to go back to. A friend like Jenny could only save her – and she'd been so stupid to give that up over a boy.

"I'm so sorry, Jenny," Diana whispered. "You don't know how – how awful I've felt."

"Diana, this is so much bigger than what happened," Jenny murmured. "All of that doesn't mean anything anymore."

"And I ruined your dress," Diana murmured. "God, I'm such an idiot." She sat up and curled into herself, wrapping her arms around her knees. "I don't know when I started to fuck everything up…" Diana rolled her eyes, wiping the black stains from her cheeks. "You should be dancing with Damien and having fun. And instead, you're here…taking care of me. You're such a good person."

"I'm a good friend," Jenny corrected, sliding her hand over Diana's. "You're my friend. I can always sew another dress. Damien…" Jenny trailed off, rolling her blue eyes. "He can do with a little waiting of his own." Diana offered a small smile in assent. "But I'm here with you now – for as long as you need me to be. We don't even have to sleep tonight. We can watch movies, talk, _anything_, Diana. I'm here."

Diana nodded, staring at her fingers. "I don't deserve that."

"You don't deserve what he did to you," Jenny replied simply, grabbing for the remote. She put on a movie for them, and they took turns getting ready for bed as they always did during their makeshift sleepovers. Diana and Jenny stared blankly at the silly classic on the screen, wrapped in their robes, quiet in the dark.

"We have to report him," Jenny stated.

"_Please_," Diana sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "His parents own the entire region. There were no witnesses…there's no _proof_. As if they'll believe the girl who's been known to get around."

"Diana – "

"I know what I'm talking about, J," Diana insisted. "Drop it."

"Then we have to tell Blair," Jenny finally said. "If anyone will know what to do...if anyone can take him down – it'll be her."

Diana let out a short breath. "I know."

"I can't believe you even kept it a secret for so long…You shouldn't have held that in. If you would've told me, I would have listened."

"I know that now," Diana admitted. "But I wasn't alone." She steadied her breath, glancing at her phone, which was resting on Jenny's bedside. As it lit up with Nate's name, she felt a rush of excitement – of normality. They spoke everyday now, not about their problems or their pasts. Most of the time, they talked about nothing at all – but she found solace in it. Nate was golden, and she craved his light. Diana turned to Jenny. "I met a boy."

Jenny's eyes widened. "Oh?"

"A decent one – a _charming _one, Jenny. Did you know that the Vanderbilt compounds are only a few miles away from my aunt's estate?" Diana sighed, tucking a black strand of hair behind her ear. "His name is Nate, and he's perfect."

Jenny's jaw nearly dropped, and she swore that she could hear her heartbeat thumping in her ears. She immediately imagined herself in middle school back in Manhattan, sitting shyly on the opposite end of the girl's courtyard, swooning with all of the others when Nate Archibald, a grade above hers, would make an appearance outside. But their fantasies had only ever been that – because Nate had always had a girlfriend.

And that had always been Blair Waldorf.

"Nate," Jenny repeated, forcing herself to stay calm.

"I think that things could be different with him," Diana explained with a small smile. She absentmindedly traced her bruise through her robe. "He's so different from all of these prep-school assholes." Diana stopped herself, glancing at Jenny. "I mean, not Damien. Just – "

"No, I know," Jenny breathed. She tugged at the blonde hair braided by her neck. "I think that it's great that you met…what was it?"

"Nate."

"Nate," Jenny confirmed under a shaky breath. "But you should leave that out when we talk to Blair. At least for now."

Diana frowned, cocking her head to the side. "Why wouldn't we tell B?"

"His name might remind her of someone she used to know," Jenny explained to a confused Diana, settling into the bedspread. And although their conversation fell to silence, Jenny was left wondering how she'd somehow become the keeper of secrets in this game they were all playing.

:::

_January 16__th__, 2008: The Back Woods_

Blair froze against Chuck's touch, wondering how he could dare to accuse her of being the first one to crack. She covered his hand with the intention of prying his fingers away from the purple ribbon, but his touch served only to drag her in. Her hand trembled against his, and his question echoed in her mind. _Were you going to tell me tonight?_

Blair swallowed, pushing the thought out of her mind. Even if she had been, he'd ruined it when he accused her of sleazing it in shadows with a boy like Harrison.

"I'm famished," Blair whispered shakily, stepping out of Chuck's grasp. "And thirsty." Blair fanned herself, though it was much too cold and the act seemed silly. "And if you honestly think that I'm going to spend the entire night shivering in my underwear on _display _for you – you're seriously wrong."

At her words, Chuck smirked and got to his feet. "You've never had a problem with it before."

"Chuck," Blair warned. He held her gaze for a moment before turning away. She lost sight of him in the dark shed, and fear crept over her, chilling her bones. But just as quickly, she was nearly blinded by light. She gasped, covering her eyes with both hands.

"Blair." His voice was deep and gentle, closer to her now. "It's okay." Chuck pried her hands away from her face, and she blinked before glancing around the illuminated shed. What had once been twisted and treacherous on the night of the Victor, Victrola initiation now seemed almost…cozy. The walls were black, yes. But there were bits and pieces of a makeshift lounge all around her - two small chaises in either corner, a small table by the far wall, some sort of storage trunk made of cherry wood. She watched as Chuck pulled a smooth blanket from it and then sighed when he wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Bass…" Blair trailed off, scowling at him. "Explain yourself."

Chuck sat her down, then settled opposite of her, his eyes suddenly a light hazel. He reached up and tapped a circular white bulb with one finger. "Battery-operated."

"Don't be _smart_, Chuck," Blair replied with a roll of her eyes.

"Did you honestly think that I would rough it in the woods without any sense of security?" Chuck sat back, his eyes glimmering.

"So you…"

"Bought the shed," Chuck shrugged. "And the property surrounding it."

"And this is your…"

"Hideaway," Chuck replied, watching her. "Of sorts." He waited as Blair took in her surroundings, eyeing the furniture that was identical to that of his dorm room's.

He frowned when a fit of incredulous laughter finally fell from her lips.

"God, of _course_ you would do something like this." Blair's cheeks lit with red as she laughed. "What _are _you? Batman?"

Chuck's lips curled into a grin at the lightness on her features. "Waldorf, are you…making fun of me?" He leaned forward, and she clapped her hands over her mouth in a feeble attempt to sober her laughter. "Do you even know who Batman is?"

Blair rolled her eyes, lifting her blanket to hit him with it. "I'm not an idiot."

"I would never dare to call you one," Chuck replied. Her nonsensical giggles and his confused chuckle faded away until the blistering winds were the sounds in the room. Blair curled under the blanket, and Chuck shrugged his jacket off in favor of a purple robe. He drew it on over his dress shirt and pants – something that would look ridiculous on any other man.

But he managed to look like a king.

"You were going to tell me tonight," Chuck pressed on when the joke wasn't funny anymore. Blair snapped to attention. It wasn't a question this time, and he was looking at her like he could see right through her skin.

"Why does it matter, Chuck?" Blair glanced down, kicking the heel from her left foot. "Do you even remember what we were before all of this? What we agreed upon?" Her eyes set on his, and Chuck flinched. He recalled her, flushed and serious on the fields. _I won't love you_.

She remembered him, broken and empty. _I won't love anyone._

"You lie so well," Chuck remarked.

"I prefer not to drink down the truth," Blair said.

"Well, I can't do that tonight now, can I? Someone stole my flask."

"Oh?" Blair thought of the silver flask resting in her favorite purse – hidden beneath her silk scarf. "I can't say that I miss _that _accessory."

"You haven't answered my question."

"You never answer any of mine." Blair pushed up from the chaise, the blanket trailing behind her like a cloak as she paced. "When does this end, Chuck? When will we be as light as Damien and Jenny – like Nate and Serena, even were when they were traipsing around behind my back? Even they, with their dim-witted blonde genes could figure it out." Blair paused. "Why can't we?"

"What are you saying, Blair?"

There it was again – the eternal game. Answering yet another question with a question of his own.

"Maybe I'm wrong about what we are," Blair whispered. "You push, I push back. It's endless, and it's worthless, Chuck. Those other couples…they have something beyond this. But you and I don't know each other beyond this _game_ – "

"I don't _know_ you?" Blair didn't know what part of her short speech had struck a chord within Chuck, but she was suddenly up against the wall, near the snow-covered window. His fingers threaded in her hair, and his eyes were tense. "If I don't know you," Chuck began, lifting her leg to hoist her further up the wall. "Then I'd love to know who does." The blanket fell to the floor, but it didn't matter. She was burning, sweltering, completely consumed.

"Is it Nate? Serena?" Chuck held her hips as he spoke into her ear. "Let's see." He held her chin, and her eyes nearly rolled back at the sensation of his breath on her skin. "When we were eight, you got a scar right…" Chuck trailed off, his fingertips slipping under her negligee to skim the dimple where her thigh began. "There. Some insolent little opponent of yours deigned to call headbands stupid." Chuck smirked against her cheek. "You won that fight."

"Chuck – "

"When we you turned ten, you tried to dye your hair like Holly's in _Breakfast at Tiffany's_. I had to listen to you whine about what a disaster it was for two days, which is why this – " Chuck picked up a strand of light hair near the base of her neck, nearly hidden underneath her chestnut brown layers. " – is still gold."

Blair gasped as he went on, his eyes glowing like a madman's, his voice harsh, his tone desperate. On and on he went, singing a confused symphony of little details about her – details that he couldn't _possibly _just know.

"You eat macaroons because they make you think of Paris, and you hate vanilla because it isn't rich enough for you. And you wear La Perlas and garter belts under all of those demure little outfits because you know how much of a vixen you are underneath all of this." He gestured to her lingerie and stifled a groan. "You read the same books and watch the same movies again and again because you detest change and besides…" Chuck held her chin and chuckled. "Movie theaters are your worst nightmare."

"How do you – "

Chuck pressed her closer to the wall. "All of your life, you've only known Yale, but you have no idea what you're going to do beyond that – because you're so fucking good at everything, Blair, including this." Her eyes widened when he hoisted her legs up around his waist and kissed the curve of her chin. "And you stopped wearing that Vanderbilt ring on October 26th – the first night we fell asleep in the library." Blair let out a shallow breath when his knuckles brushed her bare finger, just to prove his point. She was breathless and speechless, but his eyes were unfocused. She wanted to ask him why he was doing this, but, just as he always did, he answered her before she could even manage to ask to question.

"Because I would overturn the world for this." Chuck squeezed her thigh, pressed his face into her shoulder. "Because every time I try to will this wretched feeling away – it's still there. I'm obsessed, and I'm infatuated, and I don't know if I hate it or if I lo – " Chuck cut off as if someone had him in a chokehold. Blair gasped, and he tensed, staring down at the brown mark on her shoulder as they panted. He felt foolish for turning on that light now, for exposing himself this way.

Because suddenly, it all came down to that one moment. Perhaps it was because she was looking at him in the way that always made his chest ache, or because there was no Archibald to lose her to now –

Because it had always really, truly been Blair.

The game that he had so skillfully crafted for himself to draw her in, to entertain her, to keep her close without ruining her, just…fell apart. He'd been fixated on finding a loophole, a way in and out of what he felt for her. But there he was, raising a white flag, laying himself bare.

He'd been _fixated _on those three little words – thinking that hearing her say it would truly be the end. That it would truly set them free.

Chuck Bass had stood before her four months ago and swore that he would never speak them aloud.

And yet he had just told Blair that he loved her in plenty.

:::

_January 16__th__, 2008: The Grand Staircase, The Main Hall_

Eric could still feel the sensation of caramel and forbidden kisses on his lips as he and Ethan sat tucked away beside the arch of the main hall's grand staircase. The two boys were sitting impossibly close to each other – arm against arm, pant legs blending into one stark shade of white. Ethan's crutch lay on the floor as a reminder of why they were completely wrong for each other, but Eric couldn't seem to get enough.

"I'm starting to understand trig," Ethan murmured smoothly, ruffling Eric's hair with his fingertips. "All of the right angles, me plus you equals…" Ethan trailed off with a goofy, wide grin, and Eric rolled his eyes at how ridiculous he sounded.

"I can't wait to see your final grade," Eric smirked. But still, he nearly flushed when Ethan's pinky hooked around his and he felt a light kiss on the line of his jaw. Eric let out a heavy sigh, clearly the responsible drag of the two, and asked, "Ethan, what are we doing?"

Ethan's eyes widened, then gleamed with mischief. "Oh, so _that's _how you want to talk." Eric shoved at his shoulder, and Ethan broke into a fit of smart laughter.

"I'm serious," Eric insisted, shoving him again.

"Oh, come on," Ethan sighed. "You make me happy. You walk into a room and my day turns around. I _like _that we're different, and I _like _that you make me feel like it's okay to be…" Ethan's lips lifted into a careful smile. "To be part of us."

Eric parted his lips to answer, but he was quickly cut off by thunderous footsteps on the stairs, a thick bottle clanking against the wall. They heard laughter, then an all too familiar thick voice shouting, "Man, I am so fucking wasted." There were more giggles, then louder laughter before a few failed attempts at hushing each other.

It only took a few seconds for Penelope and Harrison to come into view.

"Ethan," Eric whispered, jerking his head to the side.

"No," Ethan hissed, holding him there. "Fuck that and fuck them." The jock didn't waver once when he picked up his crutch and leaned over. "We're not going anywhere." Eric faltered for a moment. He appreciated what Ethan was doing. Of course, it excited him and tugged at his heart. He'd been waiting for Ethan to do just this – to stand up for them this way. But there was no point in letting him do this if his father's words were still an invisible threat keeping them apart. There was no point if they couldn't be together.

But it was too late.

"What's this?" Harrison called, stumbling down the final bottom step. "Ethan and the…freak?" Penelope laughed, reaching for Harrison's arm, but he shoved her away, his eyes intent on the couple in front of him. Harrison hobbled forward in a drunken stupor, catching Ethan and Eric's twined fingers. He narrowed his eyes, his lips curling in disgust. "You're fucking kidding."

"Back off, man," Ethan warned, pulling Eric to his side.

"They said that the rumors were true," Harrison slurred, jabbing his finger in the air. "But I thought, no. There's _no_ way that one of my best friends has been a fag this whole time." Harrison snarled, his features twisting as he stumbled forward again. "Who's this? Your little boyfriend? I _room _with you – I've showered next to you, asshole."

Eric rolled his eyes. "I doubt he was looking at anything there."

"What the _fuck _did you just say, you little prick?"

Eric flinched as Harrison's fist flew through the air. He waited for the impact, but it never came. When he opened his eyes, Penelope was screaming, and Ethan had his arm hooked around Harrison's neck. He was clearly at an advantage over the drunken fool, but Ethan, who was off his crutch, winced in pain as he struggled.

"Ethan," Eric breathed, grabbing the crutch from the floor, then grabbing Ethan's arm. "It's not worth it, alright?"

But Ethan looked murderous as he squeezed Harrison tighter. "Come within feet of him again, and I'll fucking kill you, Harrison. You and I are done."

"Ethan," Eric repeated. "Get off your leg. You just got out of the hospital." Eric touched Ethan's arm, reaching up to cup his shoulder. "I'm not going to lose you again."

Ethan let out an impatient breath, weighing his options. Finally, he punched the boy once in the gut, satisfied by his groan before letting Harrison drop to the floor. He grasped Eric's shoulder for support, then took the crutch from him. From the ground, Harrison spit out a mixture of blood and stale alcohol onto the marble.

"How sweet," Harrison hissed. "Daddy would be so proud, twink." At his words, Ethan jerked forward again, and Eric found the strength to hold him back. Together, they hobbled over to the main hall, then to the boy's dormitories, ducking into Eric's room at the beginning of the hall. As they walked away, they faintly heard Penelope trying to sooth Harrison, then heard him tell her to fuck off. Once Eric shut the door, Ethan threw his crutch against the wall and rolled onto the blue bed in the corner.

"Where's your roommate?" Ethan mumbled into the pillow.

"Never here."

"Hmph," Ethan garbled. Eric sat on his left side, glancing at the torn splint around the boy's leg. He went to help him, and Ethan closed his eyes as Eric fixed his mess. Finally, he whispered, "I want you to know that I'm not like them. I was friends with them because it was easy – not because that's who I am."

"Ethan, I know – "

"No, you don't know," Ethan moaned, shifting his leg to sit up. "You don't know how lucky I am to have you in my life. You're the only person who looks at me and feels…_satisfied_. You don't need me to be better or faster or anything but this." He let out a crisp sigh. "My mom's a religious fanatic, and my dad has this idea that I'm supposed to turn out just like him. A _man_." Ethan laughed softly. "And then my sister went psycho because of it. She and I…we were never close. She was always disappointing them, and then she just took off one day. I haven't heard from her since I came to Briar. She left me to be the golden child, and I…I've never known anything else."

"Ethan – "

"But it's okay," Ethan assured himself, falling back to the bed with sleepy eyes. "Because I have you now." He rolled his head over and winked at Eric in the darkness. "I'd listen to you talk about trig and Shakespeare, and all of that nerdy stuff you like forever if that's what you wanted." Ethan grinned, lowering his voice as exhaustion took over. "Because I have you."

"You have me," Eric repeated, staring down at Ethan's curled hand. And it only took him a second to shove the image of his newfound boyfriend's furious father out of his mind as he took Ethan's fingers in his.

:::

_January 16__th__, 2008: The Back Woods_

When Blair awoke the next morning, the world was silent, the day was still, and the grounds were covered in blankets of white. She was wrapped in Chuck's blanket, curled under one flap of his robe atop the leather chaise in his shed. She brushed her cheek against Chuck's chest and blinked. Her fingers scrunched the material of his shirt against her palm before she released him. He looked so peaceful when he slept – he wasn't calculating, nor was he haunted by the torment that so often drove him to madness. Blair traced the line of his jaw, the curve of his chin.

He was so beautiful. And it _frightened _her because she was supposed to be above this feeling. She had it all figured out – had ordered her life to be a certain way before it could even play out. But there she was – craving Chuck Bass like nothing else. Not like she wanted to be queen, not even like she wanted Yale. Blair shuddered at the thought. It was dangerous to love another person so recklessly, so carelessly. They could kill you with only one step away.

Blair tucked the robe around Chuck before dragging the blanket away with her, letting it scrape across the rickety hardwood as she stared out the window. The woods were beautiful and so quiet. This was the sort of cozy place that Audrey would have loved and, with Chuck, Blair suddenly loved it too. But they couldn't be _trapped _there.

She glanced at Chuck's sleeping form once more, rolling her eyes at his ever-present brooding frown, then grabbed for the doorknob again. It jiggled, but wouldn't turn at all. Now that it was light out, she could see that it was made of brass, old but polished. Blair frowned as she saw a tiny little hole beside it, a groove in the thick metal. She frowned, peering closer. It was jagged and hollow – just big enough to fit…a _key_. Blair let out a surprised breath, remembering Chuck's words. _I bought the shed. _

The shed locked from the inside, and the owner would always have its key. Which could only mean… Blair was furious as she snatched Chuck's abandoned jacket from the other chaise, shaking it out until a tiny silver key slipped from his inner pocket and hit the floor. _God _– they hadn't been stuck at all.

He had done this all on purpose.

Unlike Blair, Chuck awoke to a startling jolt of pain in his left shoulder. He frowned up at Blair, whose tiny hand threatened to hit him again - whose other tiny hand was clutching the key to that very shed in her fit of rage. He raked his fingers through his hair and cursed under his breath.

"What's _wrong _with you, Bass?"

"There's a lot wrong, actually," Chuck groaned, sitting up. "You'll have to elaborate."

"You _had_ the key," Blair spat, throwing the tiny silver thing at his chest. "The door was only locked. You could've let us out."

"Really?" Chuck quipped. "It hadn't occurred to me."

"_Everything _occurs to you, Chuck!" Blair shook her head. "You're a manipulative _psychopath_."

"That's still under speculation."

"You lied."

"Yes."

"You trapped me here."

"Yes."

Blair paused, flinching when she touched the roots of her appalling morning hair. Her eyes met his in a furious glare. "Tell me why, Chuck." Her demand was met with silence, but she refused to back down. Blair watched him for a long time in an attempt to decipher that inexplicable expression on face – a cross between fear and something…else. It was then that she realized, "You were going to tell me."

Chuck cleared his throat, setting his tone even. "Excuse me?"

"Last night, you asked me if I had been planning to _tell _you," Blair insisted breathlessly. "But you said all of those things – things you knew you wouldn't be able to take back. Things that were _true_." She lifted her chin and bit down on her lip. "You kept me here all night and you're looking at me now like – "

"Like what?" Chuck faltered, unsteady.

"You were going to tell me," Blair breathed.

"Stop," Chuck whispered. He wanted to order her, to shut her down with another terrible taunt, but he just couldn't this time. Not when her eyes were nearly glistening and – _fuck_. His hands curled into tight fists.

"But you've already told me enough," Blair said. "Enough for now. Enough to know that it's not because you don't – " Blair nodded her head, more to convince herself that this was real, that all of what they'd been through was worth something. "It's because you're afraid." Chuck said nothing, only swallowed, tightened his jaw, as Blair walked up to him. She took his chin in one of her small hands and forced him to look at her dead on. She asked him a silent question, and his answer was a nod so slight that it might not have been real at all. But it filled her with joy all the same, lit her face up with utter glee. She bent over, still cupping his chin, so close that she spoke against his lips.

"Then _fight_ for me, Chuck."

:::

_January 16__th__, 2008: Dexter Hall Dormitories_

An hour later, Blair trudged into her room, wearing her ruined dress and Chuck's suit jacket, tottering in her favorite Manolos with as much dignity as she could manage. Her heart was stricken with excitement and confusion…beating with the knowledge of requited love and utter fear. She'd left Chuck with a final kiss, pulling away when she felt his fingers curl into her hair as they always did. And now, Blair could barely see as she stepped inside, quietly shutting the door behind her. She prepared herself to wake a sleeping Jenny upon her arrival, but was surprised to find two girls in her roommate's bed – very much awake and _very much _eating from her Gold Collection.

"_Excuse _me," Blair hissed, slapping the box out of Diana's hands. She frowned when she stared at the sole survivor of her friends' apparent chocolate binge, one hazelnut truffle resting at the center of the empty wrappers. She sighed, then shrugged to herself before popping it into her mouth. She figured that she deserved it after those heady declarations – and practically starving to death in the wilderness thanks to Chuck's antics. Blair closed her eyes, moaning as the chocolate melted on her tongue.

"Jenny…is that a _suit _jacket?" Diana chimed in, forcing Blair's eyes to open. Blair frowned at the sound of the other brunette's voice.

"It's an Armani suit jacket," Jenny mused, clearly asking for it.

"Blair's wearing a _men's_ Armani suit jacket," Diana contemplated, tapping her chin with one finger, "after going missing for the entire night." Blair huffed, quickly reaching to pull the jacket off. "Now, I'm not great at quantitative reasoning…But putting those two together could only mean…"

"_Chuck_," Jenny and Diana finished.

Blair rolled her eyes and kicked her shoes off. "If it was tasteful, I'd slap _both _of you right now."

"Oh, B," Diana sighed. "When are you going to get off that high horse and just admit that you're as lovesick as the rest of us? I mean, I still think that he's a _total _dick for doing what he did before break." Diana frowned, then allowed a small smile. "But you guys are so wicked and badass together."

It was Jenny's turn to roll her eyes. "You're only obsessed with them because _The O.C. _got cancelled."

Diana shrugged. "I need a couple to root for."

"_Enough_," Blair sighed, fighting the smile on her face. She turned to the two after sprawling out atop her bedspread. "Are either of you going to explain why no one informed me of this impromptu sleepover?" Blair frowned, glancing at Diana. "And…why are your eyes swollen?"

Diana froze, realizing that it was time to push the jokes aside. Jenny silently bowed her head and budged her friend, urging her on. And then Diana took a deep breath and told Blair everything. The rape, the afternoon before break, how she could barely sleep at night, how her yellowed skin still bruised and battered from his attack. Blair took it all in until her eyes fell shut. The pain in Diana's voice…the helplessness in her tone. She suddenly felt a rage that went beyond bitchiness, beyond catty fights back at Constance. Her cheeks flamed and her nails bit into the skin of her palm.

And Blair Waldorf wasn't a hugger – but when she pulled Diana into her arms, she could barely manage to let go. Jenny watched as Blair's mind raced, her eyes went completely black. This truly was beyond a scheme…beyond a stupid plot to take an amateur like Penelope down. This girl in her arms was her sister – this was _revenge_.

"He's not just going to pay for what he did to you," Blair stated in a light, yet unbelievably menacing tone. "I'm going to destroy him. And I know exactly who's going to help me do it."

* * *

**(A Really Long) Author's Note: **Yes...I've got some explaining to do. This was a particularly long break between updates, and I'm very very sorry for that. As you guys may not know, I have tons of other stuff going on - like a shop on Etsy, book blogging, and writing a book of my own. So I've been a bit wrapped up in making orders, going to Book Expo America, and toying with my original characters and plot lines. Again, I'm so sorry for the delay, and I hope you guys understand. I'm not trying to abandon Chair. I'll write for as long as you guys want to read - you'll just have to allow me some breaks in between.

Yes, this was a shorter chapter than most - but I really wanted to focus on this one night before the takedown begins! And here's some other news: I officially (tentatively) know what's going to happen throughout the entire story now! And because you guys were asking about what I'm going to do with Gossip Girl since I reintroduced her in Chapter Nine, I'll tell you this: Like everything else in Wire's AU world, Gossip Girl's plot line will have a really dark, twisted spin when he/she comes to the Briar world. They won't just be a gossip blogger, but an actual sinister threat to the cast of the story. It's not going to be like the show at all, so I'll just leave it at that.

On a side note, I just want to thank each and every person who's reviewed this story thus far for their endless support and constructive feedback. You guys are so amazing, and you make me want to write Chair FF until I'm old and gray. I know that there are some of you who never review or only do when I haven't updated - and I still appreciate you readership - but please consider dropping your opinions from chapter to chapter! I really value what you guys have to say, and it's honestly my favorite part of writing fanfiction: working on what you love, and adjusting what doesn't work. So please keep that in mind. :) Anyway, I talk way too much. Until next time, lovelies! xoxo, N


	12. Heads Will Roll

**Chapter Twelve: Heads Will Roll **

_Holy water cannot help you now._

_See I've come to burn your kingdom down._

_And no rivers and no lakes, can put the fire out._

_I'm going to raise the stakes; I'm going to smoke you out._

**- Seven Devils by Florence and the Machine.**

Blair drowned in the darkness of her room, but the feeling – the exasperation – went unmatched by the emotional acid flowing through her veins. The tainted blood ran straight to her heart, and she knew. It was the sick, creeping feeling that she was undoubtedly, irrevocably in love with Chuck Bass.

"In love with Chuck Bass," Blair whispered to herself, sliding her blue and gold eye mask back over her face. It was an exact replica of the one Audrey had worn on the set of _Breakfast at Tiffany's_, but she felt nothing like Holly at all. The whimsical character's relationship with her Fred had been a walk in the park compared to the turmoil in Chuck's empty eyes and the ice laced over her own heart. But somehow, he had allowed her the upper-hand in this mess.

Blair let out a shallow breath as he recalled his fingertips on her skin after weeks and weeks of feigning hatred. He had known all of those things about her…inconsequential details that he'd collected throughout years and years of being on Nate's arm, of rolling her eyes at his smarmy jokes and missing his second glances, his keen observations.

Nate, Serena, and even her own mother had been careless with the bits and pieces of her, whisking her off to co-star in their lives as Chuck mingled with the shadows, picking them up, saving them for her, like the dark knight he had always been.

_He _had been there the entire time. Chuck Bass…a romantic. Who knew?

Blair had.

She stirred, only half-conscious in her early morning slumber. Before Briar, before Chuck, she'd always fantasized with Audrey scenes, slinky black dresses, and Parisian nights. Nate was sweet, but she'd often have to shift his script, envision him as more of a Humphrey Bogart rather than the doting, simple-minded love interest that he actually was. But with Chuck, reality tangled with those starry-eyed dreams, and it was so real that it almost hurt to wake up.

Because you never truly realized how consequentially someone could mold themselves into your life until the memories hit.

Blair's eyes fluttered beneath the silk, and she could almost feel the wood of that rickety shed pushing into her back again, Chuck's lips at her ear, and, _"When you were eight, you got a scar right there. Some insolent little opponent of yours deigned to call headbands stupid. You won that fight."_

Blair smiled in her sleep because, for once, Chuck Bass had been wrong on two accounts. They were twelve when Blair won that fight.

And she didn't win it alone.

:::

_September 10__th__, 2003: Prescott Middle School_

"Because only losers wear headbands."

The words resounded across the courtyard behind Prescott Middle School, and in that moment, Blair swore that every single member of their expansive student body snapped to attention. She faltered in her tiny blue uniform, tottered in her Prada flats. Before she was the queen, she collected experiences like these, moments of weakness, chinks in her armor of perfect outfits and biting one-liners.

But right then, a hot flush was spreading across her cheeks.

"Why don't you shut up?" Blair spat at Hazel Carmichael, crossing her arms over her chest, feeling the silk red band strung through her curls weighing on her head. She glanced around for support, eyeing the small crowd of followers she'd gained in elementary school. Serena, who was constantly being pulled out of school and whisked away on her mother's Caribbean adventures, was absent. And the other three girls behind her now were fidgeting, fingers pulling at their identical headbands, which varied only in hue. Blair's lips parted in horror as the first of the three slid the accessory off and stood by Hazel.

"Melanie," Blair demanded, her small fingers curling into tight fists.

But her ex-friend only glanced down at the ground with guilt painted all across her pre-pubescent features. Blair swallowed, pinching her lips together. Yes, word _had _broken out that Hazel's father owned a villa in Florence and that his investment in the Madame Alexander doll company was so large that he regularly gave them away to her friends. But…she was Blair _Waldorf_. She had luxury sleepovers and macaroons and –

"Sorry, Blair," another traitor mumbled as she too joined Hazel's side. This time, the headband dropped to the pavement and snapped in half. All it took was two, and the rest of the courtyard snubbed her, opting to flood to Hazel and her tacky green tights instead. Blair let out a choked breath, her chin dropping in disdain as students shoved past her, knocking her from her indignant stance. She skidded across the cement, gravel scraping across the exposed skin above her knee-highs. She registered the sting, registered the burst of a fresh wound, only partially on the outside. Heat spread over her skin, bile rose in her throat, and –

And then she fled.

It was a little known fact that Blair was prone to awful, short-winded panic attacks. She hid them well, as she hid it then. And later on, when she'd become a poised, elegant teenager, she would control it in other ways – knees down on the bathroom floor, wretched sounds clouded by her sheer will to be perfect, and a smile pasted on her face after the fact.

But when Blair was only twelve, her eyes swam with tears as she crouched behind the little grotto away from the taunting crowd. She clutched her knees, pink fingernails digging into the curve of her shins. She grew anxious as she lost her breath, lost her footing, felt heat on every inch of her skin. And as it happened, the headband slipped from her head.

But it didn't hit the ground.

"Well," Chuck smirked as he caught it from behind her, swinging the red object around his index finger. "I've been known to make girls swoon, but this…" His lips lifted for a moment. "Is new." He was just about to continue his comical tirade before he heard her shuddering, saw her sway on her feet again. Chuck's smile faltered.

Blair shut her eyes, desperate to insult him, to make him go away. He couldn't see her like this, _no one _could see her this way. But when her amber eyes fluttered open to meet his increasingly worried gaze, all she could manage to choke out was, "Chuck, please."

"Waldorf," Chuck managed to reply, feeling panicked himself. "Hey…" He stepped closer to her, glancing behind him before two of his fingers found the nape of her neck. For a moment, as he felt how smooth her skin was, he considered finding Nate. Surely, the annoyingly fair-haired Prince Charming was better suited to handle this than Chuck, the more crooked Casanova.

But he could already feel Blair relaxing under him, and he liked it – liked calming her this way. So he pushed her further behind one of the brass railings and crouched down just enough so that he wouldn't ruin his uniform pants.

"Never mind," Blair breathed, shutting her eyes. "Just – " Her inhale was sharp and loud, and her knees buckled. "Go away."

"Not likely." Chuck paused, steadying her. He hesitated before grasping her knee in one hand. The pad of his thumb ran over the hem of her knee-highs. "You're okay, Waldorf. What…did Audrey Hepburn die or something?" It was a joke, of course. He'd been tricked into spending enough time as a third wheel to Nate's obsessive girlfriend to know that Audrey had died years before.

Blair shoved away. "Died in…1993…_idiot_."

"Hm," Chuck mused, reaching for her again. "There's the Blair I know." His brows slanted as he heard the lunch bell ring inside. "Breathe, okay?" Chuck's brow crinkled at the softness in his own voice, and he quickly snapped out of it, grasping for his signature smarminess. "Although, you can resume panting for me behind closed doors anytime."

"Shut up," Blair hissed, but she could already feel her breaths slowing, her skin cooling. She glanced at Chuck's raised eyebrows, realizing that his fingers were rubbing small circles into her neck, massaging every time she took a breath.

"This is nice," Chuck observed, pinching the silk scarf hanging around her neck. They both looked down at the dark fabric, then at Chuck's own signature – the thick checkered pattern of red and blue against his school blazer.

Blair stood up straighter. "It's Balenciaga."

"This season?"

Blair rolled her eyes. "Of course."

Chuck's lips lifted into a devastatingly crooked grin as he moved aside, shielding her from the trickle of tardy students running up the steps and into class. And suddenly, Blair didn't mind his touch, didn't mind his presence as they bantered over brands and labels, as his fingers grew lighter against the strands of silky brown hair curled at the back of her neck.

"Of course, no one does black like Dior."

"Do you _realize _how renowned Balenciaga is? And besides, it's obviously the most flattering on me." Blair's cheeks returned to their normally healthy pink blush.

It was then that Chuck reluctantly pulled away from her, fingertips skimming the pretty scarf once more before he feigned nonchalance on the entire matter. "Obviously," Chuck echoed. "Although, I'd much rather discuss the other uses for scarves..."

"_Gross_, Chuck," Blair sighed. They were silent for a moment as Blair exhaled, her pink glossed lips pinching together as she gathered her bearings. He watched her, feeling an unwelcomed ounce of appreciation. She rolled her socks up and flipped a brown curl away from her cheek, and his stomach twisted, his heart jumped at the sight. But it only brought a scowl to his face.

"Well," Chuck began, signaling his exit. In situations involving those of the opposite sex, he was always keen to having the last word but, of course, Blair would allow no such thing.

"Oh my God," Blair huffed, embarrassed when she realized that it was halfway into the period and she was standing beside a smirking Chuck Bass after having revealed the most horrid of her bad habits.

Chuck regarded her expression for a moment. "Does this happen a lot?"

"Why do you _care_?"

Peeved at her hostile reaction, Chuck rolled his eyes and mirrored her stance with crossed arms of his own. "I don't," he lied. His mind scrambled as he lifted the thin black cell phone from his pocket. "But this particular situation is quite the rarity. And perhaps...Gossip Girl-worthy?"

Blair tensed. Her eyes grew wide, and the half-step she took towards him was impulsive when she pleaded, "Chuck."

"It was...a joke, Waldorf," Chuck amended, promptly tucking the phone out of sight once again. Blair breathed a small sigh of relief as they exchanged a blank stare. He had amber eyes, but they somehow lacked the usual lightness of the color. He narrowed his eyes, wondering if she was about to relapse into another fit of breathless panic, wondering how he'd be able to escape that, until a chill spread across her features, and she glanced away.

"As if you have any proof of what just happened," Blair murmured.

"I was preoccupied," Chuck countered. But Blair was already turning away with a swish of her skirt and a measured pace to her steps. She was just rehearsing the excuse she'd claim to her math teacher when she heard that voice again, not so deep yet, but wicked just the same.

"Take her down," Chuck called, slinking back against the ruddy bricks behind him. Blair paused on the steps, one small hand gripping the railing with all of her might. She looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes, not bothering to scold herself on how easily she'd trusted him with her secret.

"Talking to yourself, Bass?"

"You know exactly who I'm talking to, Waldorf," Chuck smirked. He paused before adding, "And what I'm talking about." Blair raised her eyebrows, and he mirrored her expression. They remained that way for several quivering heartbeats, entirely unaware that they'd share the same glance again and again years later behind bricks draped with ivy, in hidden corridors, and – much to the horror of a younger Blair – in Chuck's own bed. But it was beyond lust, beyond restrained curiosity. It was completion, understanding, a total apocalypse of the heart. And it was a wonder that something so monumental could be so utterly unrecognizable before the fall.

The following weeks brought them together, if only temporarily. Neither of them acknowledged the scar spread across the dimple of her thigh, neither of them cared much for signs of weakness. Instead, the plan was simple.

"_I'm _going to hook Chuck Bass," Hazel had cooed to her new following on the next Monday morning. Blair grinned as she overheard the conversation, picked at her fruit salad. "He's such a player, but…he'll never be able to resist me." Chuck had easily set the bait, fooled Hazel with a faux romantic pursuit. Of course, the girl thought she'd be able to win him over. And of course, that would never happen. From across the courtyard, Blair bit down on her lip and glanced at Chuck. A second later, he winked back.

"Watch and learn, ladies," Hazel sighed with cheesy contentment. "Chuck Bass is mine."

But in exactly three days, Chuck publicly announced the complete opposite. "I'm Chuck Bass," he corrected, his voice lifting to address nearly the entire courtyard. "I hate to crush the – how can I word this civilly – _pathetic_ delusion that I would ever partake in something as simple-minded as puppy love." He stepped back, examining the nail of his pinky. "And if indeed I ever suffered such a careless lack of judgment…" Chuck paused, preparing himself for the blow. "Why would I ever choose _you_?"

Blair watched in utter satisfaction as Hazel's bottom lip quivered, as she sputtered unintelligible curses to Chuck. She backed away, tripping over the cobblestoned courtyard en route to escape. She looked to her minions for support, but they were less than sympathetic.

"I thought you said he was your boyfriend," Melanie accused, crossing her arms over her chest.

"So lame," another one of them whispered under her breath. They scratched the backs of their necks, awkwardly looking away, already looking back at Blair. Tears poured down Hazel's cheeks, and she made a run for it as Blair sidled up to Chuck.

"That went…" Blair trailed off, grinning cheekily. "Flawlessly. Well done, Bass."

"You say it like that was purely for your enjoyment," Chuck smirked, stretching his arms out. At the center of the courtyard, the two were a matching pair, both cloaked in black, both cloaked in wickedness. "It's one thing we have in common," he commented. "The cold surface, the lack of emotional attachment." He seemed to raise an invisible glass. "We don't let sympathy get in the way of what we want."

Blair frowned. "Speak for yourself."

"I always do."

There was quiet as students finished their morning chatter. Blair let out an even breath. "Regardless, that was well-executed. She was foolish to think that _anyone _could tame you." Blair sniffed. "You should probably be quarantined."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he chuckled. "And…anyone? I thought you were the queen." Chuck mocked her. "Not up for that challenge?"

"In case you haven't noticed, this queen already _found _her prince, which is – " Blair's eyes focused on something – or someone – behind Chuck. "Nate!" She pasted on a flirtatious smile, one that looked nothing like the expression she wore when they were taking Hazel down. His best friend's goofy grin made an appearance across the yard. Blair cast one last glance at Chuck, smiling over her shoulder. "Thanks again, Bass."

"I usually take my repayments behind closed doors," Chuck offered rather desperately, but she couldn't hear him over her grand reunion with Nate. He coughed, slinking back into the shadows, back to where he seemed to belong, eyes intent on the fading scar on the back of her thigh.

And he watched her go.

:::

_January 18__th__, 2008: The Briar Dining Hall_

When Blair woke the next morning, her hand reached out, fingers sliding across her satin sheets, but she came up empty. Her hair was mussed up, rumpled curls sticking to her cheeks after a terribly sleepless night. It was a Saturday, she realized. Outside, she could hear students in the courtyard, freshmen gossiping, seniors whining about midterms. Blair supposed that she and her friends belonged somewhere in the middle as she pulled on a pretty purple sweater dress, dotted her cheeks with a faint blush, swiped mascara across her lashes. And then Blair hesitated before pulling that familiar navy suit jacket over her shoulders, styling Chuck's clothes as her own.

And although she didn't need anything, not at boarding school, especially not during the weekend, she hoisted her Chanel over one shoulder anyway – simply because Blair Waldorf didn't just go somewhere without a purpose.

But when she arrived in the cafeteria, she found that there was no need. She spotted the sharp jaw instantly, the sweep of dark hair slicked back atop his head, his handsome features dotted partially with fatigue, dotted mostly with apathy. Chuck's lips were pursed as he chewed on a piece of toast near the balcony and read from his phone. A crumb fell to his bottom lip, and he swiped it off with his tongue, momentarily disgruntled.

Blair swore that her heart stuttered to a stop at the sight.

Chuck glanced up when she sat down beside him, then looked again when he realized it was her. Neither of them knew quite how to act after the storm had hit, neither knew where they stood after their desperate attempt to pull each other apart had landed them together.

"I want to talk," Blair offered, glancing up through batted lashes, searching his face. Chuck cleared his throat, avoided her eyes when he looked back – he had been weakened enough. Instead, he focused on the faint beauty mark on her cheekbone. He swallowed once, then twice – his mouth seemed to be remarkably dry – before throwing her a sheepish grin.

"I prefer…" Chuck trailed off, daring to brush his arm against hers below the table. "To talk after." Blair's breath hitched, and she nearly had to pinch herself to recall why she was even here. He smelled so good, like the cologne she loved, like the mannish shampoo in his styled hair. _God_. Blair bit down on her lip and forced herself to look up at the ceiling. She needed to focus.

"_After_ I get my yogurt," Blair corrected with a scolding frown. She angled herself away from Chuck, making sure that no part of her was touching him. But he caught her wrist, slid his fingers down to her palm like he had done so many times before.

He rolled his eyes when she tried to yank away. "Sit down, Waldorf."

"I don't get it," Blair frowned. "Now you want me to _starve_? I – " The words caught in her throat when she eyed his lunch tray. The selection was _pure _Chuck. Toast with a packet of jam, coffee that smelled an awful lot like Smirnoff, a chocolate eclair, and a bowl of fresh strawberries – all of which were his favorite things. But sitting upon the corner of the tray, out of place with all of the rest, was a blood orange Chobani, a spoon balanced on top, just waiting to be eaten. Blair took it from him, carefully lifting the lid. "Chuck…?"

An angry flush spread over the back of Chuck's neck, and Blair bit back a gasp.

"Chuck, you didn't have to – "

"Look, it's just – "

"I really – "

"Just yogurt," Chuck scoffed, throwing in the last word before shrugging her off with a jerk of his shoulder. They sat in silence for a moment, Chuck chewing his toast, Blair eating beside him at her leisure. Underneath the table, his knee brushed hers, and before she could move away like she always did, he caught her leg and ran his thumb over the ridge of her knee. Blair shivered. The whole thing was so domestic, so _couple-y_. What was he trying to prove?

No. That wasn't the proper question to ask at all. His touch was scalding, was absolutely electric,when his thumb followed the curve of her thigh, the junction just above her smooth calf, but it didn't promise permanence. _How long would he try to prove it?_

Blair shook her head and sighed softly as she leaned into his touch, watching a dimple form in his cheek as he swallowed down the coffee that reeked of vodka and stared straight ahead. She waited until he was done before she dared to grab hold of the hem on his navy blazer. "Chuck, that smells like a brothel."

He raised his eyebrows at her, shifting so that she could grab hold of his elbow completely. Chuck always did this, always leaned into her in the hopes that she wouldn't notice how desperately he craved her touch, her comfort. The irony of Blair Waldorf showing her nurturing side to someone like him had not gone unnoticed. And it made him want more of it – and more of her.

"Bass, that smells like – "

Chuck exhaled through his nose. "I heard you." Blair waited for him to respond, but he only continued with a small smirk, "Then it must be a good day."

When he raised the cup to his lips, Blair snatched it out of his hands, as deft and clever as always, her nose wrinkling when she took a whiff of it. In a second, she disappeared, her tiny skirt swishing around her thighs as she brought it out to the balcony and poured the substance into the shrubs outside.

"Jesus," Chuck murmured upon her return.

"No. Just me. I'm not sure if even he can save you now," Blair smirked with a little eye roll. But there was a shift in his eyes, something anxious, something just short of fear. She offered him yogurt from her spoon, and his lips curled in disgust at the fruity mixture. "_This _is real food, Bass," she demanded, touching the spoon to his lips, getting dollop of yogurt on his chin. "I'm pretty sure that _Smirnoff_ didn't make it onto the food pyramid for a reason." Chuck frowned, but Blair finally won out with an icy glare, and his tongue darted out for a taste.

"I'm not Nate," Chuck commented airily. "Just because we're…" He cut off, having no idea what to call what he was to her. "We're not en route to some stony arranged marriage. You don't get to play my wife." His words had the potential to be cutting, had he not still been holding onto her knee.

Blair chose to ignore him. "I _like _a sober Chuck Bass."

"That makes one of us," Chuck retorted.

"Well, it shouldn't," Blair replied softly, catching his gaze.

Chuck relaxed under her watch, finally settling on a compromise. He slid the yogurt back over to his tray, then lifted the remaining bit of his chocolate éclair to her lips. "I'll see you one yogurt if you allow me the delectable sight of watching you eat this."

Blair frowned, taking the pastry by her fingertips. "Why?"

"It turns me on," Chuck smirked.

"_Chuck_." Blair pretended to be appalled, but she still nibbled on a bit of the dessert, letting the chocolate melt onto her tongue. She even made a show of teasing him as she licked her fingertip, a dastardly little move to do in public, but it was well received. And when Blair was done, she wiped the corners of her lips with a napkin from his tray and sat back. "I know what you're trying to do." Blair's fingers automatically lifted to her stomach. "_I'm _fine."

"Yeah?" Chuck leaned forward, grabbing hold of her chin. "Then so am I."

"Chuck."

"Blair." He was not a second offbeat. Blair narrowed her eyes, and his fingers danced down the line of her jaw. "I suppose we've reached some sort of impasse."

Blair nodded, then shook her head, desperate to regain her focus. "Don't do that, you Basstard. That doesn't matter. None of that matters."

"Did you just call me – " Chuck paused, his lips lifting into an incredulous smile. "Basstard. I should really get that copyrighted."

"Oh," Blair huffed, sliding his tray aside with a knock of her hand. "And that's your solution? To buy up the entire world?"

"Not quite," Chuck argued. Blair was aware that his hands were still on her, light movements flashing under the tabletop to hide from their classmates' straying eyes. He leaned in and whispered, "Some things just come to me naturally. Come _for_ me, that is – "

"Enough," Blair hissed before he could sidetrack her with another sexual innuendo. She lifted Chuck's hand and dropped it back onto his own lap. "I'm in need of your assistance." Chuck parted his lips to suggest that they find a more private venue to satisfy her request when – "Not that kind of assistance. Chuck, I…need to tell you something. There was something that happened."

He tensed, features clouding over with concern. "Are you hurt?"

"Yes," Blair whispered, lashes casting shadows down her cheeks when she glanced down. She wasn't sure if he noticed, wasn't sure if she was imagining his hand taking hers. He silently promised her safety, his broken idea of trust, and she felt lighter. Blair looked at Chuck and saw her confidant. She'd never had anyone she could trust with the crookedness – or who could follow her into the dark without looking back once. She looked down again, fingers curling around his – _not holding hands, just holding on _– and continued, "but not for myself."

:::

It was his shot at redemption, he supposed.

Chuck listened to Blair recount Diana's story in hushed whispers and fought to keep up a blank face. It wasn't as if he felt a particular sense of loyalty to the girl – those feelings were exclusively reserved for Blair, he shamefully admitted to himself. But there was something about the way that Blair's lips curled in disgust at describing Harrison's act that made him feel his own shame. Years and years worth of it.

_"He just preys on girls like some – "_

Chuck's jaw twitched.

_"…just…repulsive. Taking advantage of – "_

His other fist curled under the tabletop. Had Blair not been talking about Harrison, her words would have been a quite accurate description of…Chuck.

Before Blair had sauntered into Briar's arched, nearly-ancient halls, he'd been mindless in his lustful pursuits. He preyed and he hurt, and he found delicate things solely with the intention of crushing them. Because it was easier to destroy. It was easier to drown in your own charade than open yourself up to the flaws of others. Which was why –

"Chuck?" Visions of himself getting freshmen drunk in desolate corners faded away to reveal Blair blinking back at him. Chuck realized that he now had her fingers in a vice grip, and he released her instantly. His expression went neutral, and she relaxed again. Now, her eyes brightened, her lips curled with that mischievous little smile that he loved. "What if I told you that I had a plan?"

He snapped out of his self-loathing and offered up a smile. "Something new?"

"Hm, no," Blair corrected. "This is a bit reminiscent of our first time." She paused, and Chuck's mind immediately fluttered with flashes of himself pulling down Blair's La Perla's in a dim room, candle-lit maybe, hearing her purr in his ear, breath hot on his skin as he lifted her legs, fingers sinking into her thighs… "Our first takedown." Chuck cleared his throat, but his arousal was ever-present. Hearing Blair talk schemery did things to him that went unmatched by his previous bedroom trysts.

"We make sure he loses his dignity, his pathetic mass following…"

"…shoot his ego down and then take out the garbage."

Blair smiled again. "The thrill of public humiliation makes me _oh_ so nostalgic."

"Does it?"

Blair only nodded in response, her grin widening by the second. Chuck dipped his head low, felt her shiver when his lips made contact with the curve of her ear.

"Then I say, let's get the bitch."

:::

_January 20__th__, 2008: The Bogart Gardens_

_There's an old voice in my head that's holding me back_

_Well tell her that I miss our little talks_

_Soon it will be over and buried with our past_

_We used to play outside when we were young_

_And full of life and full of –_

The folky tune of "Little Talks" cut off, and Damien frowned at the loss of his headphones. But his irritation faded when he felt a soft kiss on his cheek, saw a flash of blonde hair brush his shoulder. Jenny Humphrey.

"Hey." Jenny's voice was shy when she greeted him, and Damien knew that he was still far from forgiven. But she was still there everyday, getting warm to him again, offering him kind little gestures in the way that only she could. It was adorable, and –

"I love you for that," Damien murmured. It was still strange to say it, still strange to openly admit that he loved a girl, especially a girl like her. He hadn't even picked up a drink since she wearily allowed him back into her life. And he wasn't going to fuck that up.

"Damien," Jenny sighed, hopping up onto the pillar he was sitting on. They were outside on an unusually cool day in January. They'd been hit by storm after storm, and now the weather was breezy, unthreatening. Damien turned to Jenny when she spoke again. "You have to stop saying that."

"Thanks for the suggestion," Damien smirked. "But I'm not interested." He leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose, and Jenny blushed, accidentally lifting her chin in surprise. The movement brought his lips to hers, and then…he was kissing her. Damien moaned, pulling her closer, bowing her against his front, parting his lips against her skin like it was a breath of fresh air.

"_Damien_," Jenny scolded him breathlessly, pushing at his chest. Damien released her immediately, realizing his mistake when she tensed up, hands clutching her elbows. "I…I knew that this would happen, that I would give you the wrong idea…" Words tripped over words, and Jenny's skin burned a pink so hot that Damien thought she might combust.

"Hey, hey, I'm sorry," Damien whispered. "That was totally my bad, okay? I screwed up. It was me."

"I don't want to keep doing this," Jenny said, exasperated. "I don't want to feel pressured into loving you back." Her voice shook, and she fiddled with her thumbs as she spoke. The cool air swiped at her skin, and she pulled her little pink coat closer around her shoulders.

Damien blinked, sitting back with a furrowed brow. He could barely feel the prickle of a frozen branch when it poked his arm. "Is that really how you feel?"

Jenny glanced up at him. "No…of course not. Damien, you _know _how I feel about you. I was the one to fall first. I had thought that it was all romantic…you seeing over your crowd, dropping your cigarette and ditching your parties to choose me." Jenny smiled, blonde hair falling to her face. "It was like an 80's movie. And then…you broke my heart."

"I'm sorry…"

"I know that you're sorry," Jenny replied quickly. "And you should know that I do feel _that _way." Damien's face brightened. "And I want to be here for you, but not in that way. Not yet. When it happens, I want it to be real."

Damien shrugged one shoulder, cupped her chin. "You know that it's real, J."

Jenny was just about to nod her head in assent when she heard her a low chime coming from her little DIY satchel. She pulled the embarrassing flip phone from the front pocket, waited what seemed like forever to load the message onscreen. It was angry, it was in bold letters.

It was from Blair.

_Whenever you feel like gracing us with your presence, Humphrey. We all play a role in this. _

Jenny swallowed, remembering exactly what she was supposed to do. "Come on," she said as she grabbed the sleeve of Damien's coat, dragging him back to Briar's back entrance. Slow melted on the ground, and the low heat welcomed them when they finally got inside. "You need to talk to Diana."

"Jenny, we've been over this. Diana and I aren't – "

"It's _not _about that," Jenny said, racing through the halls with Damien on her tail. They dodged a group of jealous freshman who glared at the dewy-cheeked blonde with blatant jealousy. How _had _the non-brand wearing Brooklyn import snagged a Dalgaard, anyway? Sure, he was one of the tragic bachelors – but he was rich and handsome just the same.

"So what's this ab – " Damien silenced when they arrived in the lounge and spotted Chuck and Blair leaning into each other atop one of the plush seats by the fireplace, whispering to Eric, Ethan, and Diana, who were sitting opposite of them. Jenny joined Eric, ruffling his boyish locks before waving Damien over. When he sat down, he frowned at his friends. "Did I miss a memo or something…? I thought that the delinquent students group met on Wednesdays."

"Ugh, that's only you," Blair murmured under her breath. She glanced at her companion. "And Chuck."

"So sweet," Chuck smirked, pinching her hip. From across the circle, Diana watched them, then winked at Jenny, who raised her eyebrows in response.

"Anyway," Blair continued, dodging Chuck's advances with a stern slap on his wrist. He kept his hand on her lower back, out of sight to the rest of them, but listened as she spoke. "Ethan and Eric will handle all of the technicalities – the invitation to Chuck's shed, the print-outs later on. Jenny and Damien will be present at the stake-out. I trust that _some _of my ruthlessness will have rubbed off on you, Little J." She then glanced at Chuck. "And, of course, Chuck and I will do all of the dirty work, while Diana lies low for a while." Blair paused, making sure that everyone was all caught up. "Questions?"

"Yeah, just a little one," Damien chimed in, raising one finger. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Blair looked up at Diana, who had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout Blair's little dictating spiel. She tucked a curl behind her ear and narrowed her eyes. "Diana…you haven't told him?"

"Told me?" Damien echoed, finally meeting Diana's gaze. "Told me what?"

"God," Blair sighed. "Is no one taking this seriously?" She looked to Chuck for support, who was bemusedly stroking the dimple of her lower back through the fabric of her skirt. She shook her head, only slightly soothed by his touch. "_Amateurs_."

"You two should talk." It was Jenny who made the suggestion, glancing between her non-boyfriend and her ex-best friend turned enemy turned best friend again. "Privately?"

Diana coughed. "Jenny…"

"He's not my boyfriend, and I'm fine," Jenny practically yelled, startling the rest of the group. "I'm fine, I'm fine, I am _freaking _fine." The blonde was red in the face, looking almost maniacal as she continued to rant. "So you can all stop tiptoeing around me like I'm some fragile little kid. And _you two_ – " Jenny pointed to Damien, then to Diana. " – need to get over what happened and be friends again. We have _much _bigger fish to fry." Jenny let out a huff. "Understood?"

There was an awkward pause. Blair's eyes lit up with astonishment, and…pride? Eric patted Jenny's back to calm her down a bit. Damien and Diana looked at each other once again, then looked away. Chuck, of course, was as bored as ever. And Ethan…

Ethan started a slow clap, to which no one joined in.

"Oh, come on," Ethan sighed, dropping his hands. He had abandoned his crutch, but still made a big show of reclining himself on top of Eric no matter where they went. Now, he sat up from his perch and shot a disappointed look at his friends. "Was this not the time to – "

"_No_," Eric cut in. Ethan frowned, and Eric shook his head again. "You know that I'm always rooting for you, and that I'm a firm believer in your mental capabilities…even if they're not always present…But, just this once, you're the muscle, Ethan. Just the muscle."

Ethan pouted, which looked absolutely ridiculous on the tall athlete. "Are you trying to call me a dumb blonde, van der Woodsen?"

Eric grinned. "Well…"

"No," Blair hissed, one palm facing them. "I'm not interested in enduring your idea of flirtatious banter." Blair rolled her eyes. "It's nauseating, Eric."

"We have to deal with you two and your deranged sexual tension all of the time!" Eric said, shooting an incredulous look at Chuck and Blair. "Nuclear annihilation is like foreplay for you guys."

Blair frowned, clearly not seeing the problem. "And your point is…?"

As their playful argument continued on, no one noticed Damien and Diana slip away from the group, heading over to the very spot where Damien had first told Jenny that he loved her. It didn't…feel right, but the blonde glanced up at the pair and nodded her head with stern encouragement. Damien winked back at her, liking this new attitude. Just as he was imagining her bossing him around in a more private venue, he was engulfed by a giant hug and the smell of sweet perfume.

"I miss you," Diana murmured into his shirt. Damien relaxed against her, sliding a hand down her long black hair, letting his fingers get tangled in it for a moment before he pulled away. He was surprised to find defeat in her eyes, an ounce of weakness that he'd never seen before.

"Diana – "

"I guess that I saw them – " Diana glanced over his shoulder at Chuck and Blair. " – and I wanted something crazy and raw and awful and beautiful like what they have. I wanted somebody who would change my life and never let me look back." Diana sighed. "I tried to force that to happen with you, when that just wasn't who we were. You're my best friend."

"You're mine," Damien promised. "And I'm sorry. It was a fuck-up to top all others with the exception of Chuck and his…" Damien rolled his eyes like he couldn't even find the proper words to describe his friend. "But he and Blair are in a whole other stratosphere."

"Right," Diana agreed.

"But the point is that I…miss you, too," Damien finally admitted. He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Ironically enough, I could have used someone to help me win Jenny over again."

Diana smiled. "Ironically enough, I've been helping _her _with _you_." Damien's eyes lit up with excitement, but before he could interrogate her, Diana crossed her finger in a sassy Z-formation. "Oh _no_. I'm not going to be a double-agent. Unless it means that I get to fuck with Penelope's head."

"Your favorite hobby," Damien chuckled.

Diana smirked. "You know it."

Damien paused for a moment, nudging her shoulder. "I _did _miss you." He held her arm, tipped her chin up with his thumb. "But I want to know what's bothering you so much."

"Okay," Diana murmured. "But it's going to upset you. You're going to flip, but…I need you not to. I need you to stay calm. And then I need you to go back there with me and help Blair with whatever insane plan she's just concocted."

Damien shook his head, nudging her again. "Come on, Di. I'm the calmest man alive."

:::

_January 20__th__, 2008: Dexter Hall Dormitories_

Damien Dalgaard did not stay calm.

Instead, he punched the lounge's wall so hard that he drew blood, and it took the rest of the group, and a talk from Chuck to get him to stay away from Harrison. It was Chuck's more selfish reasoning that ended up making the most sense. If Damien went at Harrison and hurt him, only one boy would be expelled.

And it wouldn't be the rapist.

"You're okay?" Damien asked for the thirtieth time that night. Diana rolled her eyes, shoved at his chest to shut him up. He had his arm slung around Jenny as they walked Diana back to her dorm room.

"You mean, since you asked me five minutes ago?" Diana shrugged. "Damien, I'm fine…in the most relative sense of the word. It hurts, and there are scars, and I have nightmares about the same things every night. But I won't wallow. This isn't all that I am. I just…want to see him pay."

"And you're leaving that in the hands of Blair Waldorf?"

Diana smiled. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Long after Diana had bid them farewell with a giant hug amongst the bizarre trio, a hug that should have been much more awkward than it actually was, after Diana had watched Damien kiss the top of Jenny's head as they disappeared down the hall, she locked herself in her room and slumped down against her door.

She didn't like this feeling, didn't like being the victim while others tried to save her over and over again. Diana St. Jean was used to holding her own, and now she'd lost her grip, and she could never go back to being the carefree, wild-hearted girl she'd once been. She was bruised and she was careful – and she looked both ways before even taking a simple step now. Harrison had taken that freedom from her.

_Ding._

Diana raked her fingers through her hair and jumped up from the floor. Her laptop illuminated the hutch above her tiny desk, the familiar blue of Skype's homepage filling the screen. There was an incoming request to video chat. And it was from Nate Archibald. She nearly tripped over herself to muss her hair up and apply a dollop of lipstick before she answered the call. Her stomach immediately fluttered at the sight of his light brown hair, his bright blue eyes, and the green Polo she loved on him.

"Nate."

"Di." His smile as he uttered her nickname was…Diana sighed. She didn't know about that crazy, burning infatuation when she thought of Nate. But when she talked to him, she didn't have to worry about being as smart as Jenny Humphrey, didn't have to worry about being sexy or intellectual or anything other than what she was. "You're on."

"I told you that I would be, Archibald." Diana cocked her head to the side. "How's everything with your Dad?"

"It…sucks," Nate sighed. "My mom is in denial about everything that's happening hear at home, and my dad's even worse about it." Nate leaned closer to the camera. "You've been crying. Is it the nightmares again? I can stay on with you until you fall asleep again, or…pay a visit to your school? Mid-winter recess is coming up."

"Nate, that's really sweet, but I'm trying to salvage _you _from Briar."

Nate frowned, and the name of her school registered with him once again. Why did it sound so familiar? Every time she said it, it sounded a lot like the place that –

"Blair is helping me through all of this. She's in dictator mode, and I highly doubt that any part of Harrison will be spared when she's done with him."

The color drained from Nate's face. And, for some stupid reason, all he could think was, _Not again. _"Did you say…I mean…"

"Blair Waldorf," Diana continued, rifling through her drawer and surfacing with a lone cigarette and a little packet of cafeteria biscuits. As she lit up, careful to keep the flame dim and far from the smoke detector, she smiled. "It's probably time that I fill you in on my world. Although, I'm so keen on hearing your glitzy tales from the Upper East Side. There was a girl, right?" Diana blew out smoke and tried to remember. "You were in this crazy love triangle." She sighed. "You and I, my friend, were in the same miserable boat."

Diana looked to him for agreement, but she found him pale-faced and confused, features crinkled like a neglected puppy's. "…Nate?"

"Right, a girl," Nate mumbled, flipping his hair back.

"What was her name again?"

Nate's eyes widened. "I never told you."

"Oh…" Diana trailed off, suddenly worried by the expression on his face, his guarded eyes. She tried again, smiling at him, tossing her cigarette into the ashtray beside her bed. "Well, I guess it doesn't matter now. Maybe…everything was meant to be this way."

"Yeah," Nate breathed, scratching at the back of his neck. "I mean, it all led me to you, right?"

"It did." Diana smiled, nibbling on a cookie. "Things have a funny way of working out, I guess."

"Yeah…" Nate said as he watched Diana's shirt slip from her shoulder, right before a picture tucked into the crevice of her vanity mirror caught his eye. It was some sort of Polaroid taken in a dormitory – Diana in a short black slip, a mousy blonde in a long white nightgown, and his ex-girlfriend, Blair Waldorf, half-smiling at the camera as she munched on a macaroon. "Yeah," Nate repeated, shaking his head. "They really do."

:::

_January 25__th__, 2008: The Back Alley_

"I loathe you."

"I loathe _you_."

A hush fell over the cafeteria, and students dropped their trays, shushed their neighbors, and craned their heads to hear the argument going on behind the dining room's back wall, the one that blocked the school's infamous back alley, where Chuck and Blair were currently having it out. Two underclassmen wearing thin, multi-colored headbands sat as close to the wall as possible, hoping to catch it all.

"Do you think they're really breaking up this time?" one asked the other.

"I hope not," the younger one shrugged. "They're like the dysfunctional Bradgelina of Briar." She popped a spoonful of yogurt into her mouth. "They're just so perfect for each other…"

"_Please_," a cold voice suddenly snapped, shoving into the two girls. Penelope glared back at them, arms crossed, totally pissed off. "A break-up requires an actual relationship in the first place, so get over your little false fantasy." Penelope rolled her eyes. "It's pathetic."

"Talk about pathetic," the girl murmured as Penelope stalked away. And just as she was about to address the juvenile's flawed comeback, the cafeteria silenced again, waiting to catch more of the fight.

"You're a bitch."

"You're an _ass_," came Blair's sharp rebuttal.

Penelope frowned, glancing at her enraptured peers. Didn't they all have lives? Why were they so fucking fixated on every step Blair Waldorf took? If they would all remember correctly, Chuck Bass had been hers first… Penelope tried to soothe herself with this fact, but Chuck's voice still echoed in her head from the night of the Homecoming Ball. _Your what? I'm not your boyfriend. I can dance with whomever I please._ Her fingernails dug into her palms at the thought.

But instead of dwelling on it, Penelope headed straight for Harrison, who was pretending not to listen in like the rest of them. She stepped up to his table and sighed, "Harrison, let's go."

But he paid no attention to her. Instead, he elbowed the boy beside him and jerked his chin up. "Looks like Waldorf is back on the market. Let's see if her _bang _is as big as her buck." The boys laughed, which only fed into their friend's cockiness. Behind him, Penelope practically drew steam from her ears.

"Harrison, let's _go_."

Harrison glanced back, gave her a once-over, then smirked. "Sorry, babe. I'm not…interested in my own leftovers."

Penelope rolled her eyes and let out a nervous breath. "Come on, Harrison. Don't be a jerk. I'm serious. The dorms are empty and I thought…"

"Babe," Harrison repeated in a tone that was much too condescending to be amorous. "Did I stutter? I don't want you. I'm not interested. So you can wipe the desperation off yourself and find something better to do than throw yourself at me." Penelope went deaf for a moment. In her humiliation, in the midst of the boys' jeers, she could only stumble away, run away in her thin jumper to the back of the building, barely noticing the light snow that was falling from the sky. She kicked at the grass, spewed out angry curses to an empty audience. She was just about to kick over an abandoned bird bath when she heard the bushes rustle by the far left of the campus.

Penelope dropped her hands. "…Hello?"

There was more rustling, and a dark figure came into view near a cluster of trees. The person was cloaked in black, a thick coat, an oversized hood, staring right at her with eyes that Penelope could not see. She swallowed, took a step back to regain her footing.

"I'll call the police," Penelope warned before she decidedly took another step forward. It was probably one of Harrison's jerky friend's trying to mess with her. But she…she was still Penelope Hayford. And she wasn't afraid of anything. Blair had her weakness, and that was Chuck Bass – the only way Penelope could rise above her would be to be absolutely fearless.

"Hey," Penelope called again, which seemed to startle the person. As they jerked their head up in her direction, papers scattered across the wet ground. They both lunged for the stack, but Penelope got to it first. Penelope gasped, her covered knees sinking into the frozen grass as she passed her fingertips over what she could now see were photographs. There was Ethan and Eric kissing on the balcony outside of the Saints and Sinner's ball, Blair yelling into her cell phone, and then Blair again, wrapped up in Chuck's arms as they did unspeakable things on the public fields, wrapped up in his arms as she smoked a joint. And there were others, countless snapshots of her peers caught in the midst of their most hidden secrets. And once again, Penelope found them all in the palm of her hands.

There was one sheet that stood out above all of the rest – a transcript, a print-out with a familiar black and gold heading, the chic script. But now, the city background was replaced with something a little more gothic, spiraling towers, intricate pillars, and oak wood. It was Briar, and this person could only be –

"Gossip Girl," Penelope whispered, eyes trailing up to the faceless figure. "I remember the stories from when I lived in the city. I never thought you were the real thing. I never thought…" Penelope swallowed, gathered the pictures in offering. "Why are you here?" There was silence and, for a moment, Penelope caught sight of dark hair beneath the hood. But it was gone in a flash.

And then Penelope smiled, her heart panged, her heart raced. She had found her purpose. And she had found her route to revenge. And so she asked, "Are you in need of assistance?"

:::

Back in the alley behind the cafeteria, the period was coming to an end, Chuck and Blair's little show was coming to a close. Their words were biting, but no one could see his hands on her waist as they argued, no one could see her skimming the skin of his neck between insults. Even fake fights got Blair all worked up, and Chuck was thoroughly enjoying their little façade.

"You're despicable," Blair called out loud, sliding her hand down his chest. Chuck bowed her forward, and she gasped with a small smile. "And I…hate you." His fingers curled in her hair and yanked her head back, gained access to her neck, scraped his teeth across the base of her throat. Blair nuzzled her nose into his cheek, whispered in his ear, "Do you think it's working?"

"Hm," Chuck whispered back, sliding his hand down between her thighs, pressing his finger into her arousal. "This isn't very convincing." Blair's knees buckled, and she held on, pulled him closer. Her vision was swimming, and she saw red, red with lust. They were supposed to be convincing the entire student body that they hated each other, that they were divided now. Blair moaned as he cupped her jaw and kissed her again.

She had found something that she was very bad at.

"They're gone," Blair gasped, extricating herself from his grip. "The bell, Chuck. It's over."

Chuck's eyes darkened, and he refused to release her, refused to stop the burning kisses that fell across her skin, refused to stop his hands from making a mess of her uniform, from untangling the carefully pinned chignon in her hair. She lost her breath when he rasped, "It's never over."

Blair's mouth fell open, and he captured her bottom lip between his teeth. God, she thought to herself. Why did the fire never seem to die down? Why was it always just as…_hot_? Chuck pinned her wrists to the wall, hoisted her legs up around him so that they were connected, hip to hip, hearts threatening to burst through weak fabric.

"Chuck." She whispered his name more urgently, held him still against her writhing body. "Chuck…I want you," she admitted. "Every beat in my body quivers for you. But we have time now, after the plan. After – "

"Blair," Chuck groaned, and his voice was colored with the most torturous anguish she'd ever heard. She stroked her fingers across his cheek to soothe him, pressed her lips to his temple and felt him close his eyes. She was about to speak when they heard voices outside, one that stood out above the others. Harrison.

"Chuck, I have to go." Blair found the strength to pull away, to tie her hair up again, to straighten her skirt. "I have to do this."

Chuck pursed his lips, tilted his head back, and closed his eyes. "Go."

"Chuck – "

"Hurry up, before he leaves."

"Okay," Blair whispered. He heard her retreating footsteps, heard her greet Harrison in a voice that she usually reserved for boys like Nate. He heard Harrison flirt back, heard him say that she was exactly the girl he wanted to see.

And although it was all part of the scheme, Chuck wondered if he and Blair were destined – were doomed – to watch each other walk away.

:::

It wasn't difficult to hook Harrison. He was a silly boy, a puppet whose strings could be pulled by his ego. And like little boys often do, he took what he wanted, blindly and ruthlessly. And he always called it –

"A game," Harrison insisted for the millionth time. "You and I play the game of life, Blair. That's why we always come out on top. Although, I'd much prefer to see you on top." Harrison winked at her, and Blair stifled a gag. He was a mindless idiot, and Blair thought she might consider suicide before actually seeing this plan through.

"Right," Blair finally deadpanned as they came to the student mailboxes. They parted as she picked up a few invitations to city societal events in the spring, her magazine subscriptions for the month, and a few Nordstrom and Bloomingdale's catalogues. Harrison surfaced from his mailbox with a familiar gold card addressed to him. Blair grinned. _Perfect._

"Check it," Harrison said, lifting the card to reveal the familiar double-V printed in inky black. "Guess who's just aching to have me back?"

"I can't imagine who," Blair muttered.

"You know, I always did like to think of myself as the Victors' true leader," Harrison explained, slinging a heavy arm over Blair's shoulders once again. "You coming, babe?"

Blair scowled. _Yuck._

"As…tempting as that sounds, I'm not interested in widening the current riff in our group," Blair lied. They'd all been avoiding each other in the halls, dodging any situation that caught them all together, lest anyone think that they actually were scheming. You see, their plan was a complex one. It went beyond a simple public take-down. They wanted to use all they had, unravel him until he broke, unravel him until he had nowhere left to turn.

Stage two was already complete and underway. She had spent a long night goading Harrison into sending her pictures of himself. She tried to imagine him as Chuck as she typed those dirty words away, promising that she would reciprocate once she saw what he had to offer.

_What are you, scared?_

_R u kidding?_

The product of her insistence was laughable. The nude pictures of Harrison flooded her phone, and, as if AT&T couldn't even bear the sight, the device had frozen before loading them all. In the middle of the night, Blair, Jenny, and Diana had laughed at the sight of Harrison slung across his bed, one hand covering his measly excuse for a package, the other poised on his hip as a lame attempt at channeling an Abercrombie model.

"Is _he _kidding?" Diana had smirked.

And now the photos were forwarded onto Eric's phone, which would all be delivered directly to the headmistress's email address when the time came. As well as every other student and faculty account in the system.

"Come on," Harrison insisted, shaking her away from her reverie. "You're with me."

"Trust me," Blair said with a small smile. "I'm fine. But you…you should go." She cocked her head to the side, catching a glimpse of Damien nodding back to her by the library. Blair leaned into Harrison and promised, "It'll be a night that you'll never forget."

:::

_January 26__th__, 2008: The Back Woods_

Harrison arrived promptly, which took Jenny, Damien, and even Chuck by surprise when he stumbled into the shed. It was dark and he seemed only partially confused when he found a single chair waiting for him at the center of the room. Candles burned and the wind howled outside, but he was too drunk to hear the door slam shut and lock behind him. This wasn't surprising at all.

"Where the fuck is everyone?" the boy slurred, tripping over his feet, reaching for the chair. "I want to get…royally fucked up."

"That you will, asshole," Damien murmured under his breath. Jenny elbowed his side to quiet him down. They were standing in the darkest corner of the shed, across from Chuck, who was eyeing them as they all waited.

"Quit fucking around," Harrison called out, fumbling in his pocket for a cigarette. Jenny narrowed her eyes, imagining him all over Diana, slamming her against the wall, pushing and hurting until those horrible bruises were born beneath her skin. It was heady, this feeling. She craved vengeance, and for the first time in her life, she wanted to hurt another person.

"Why don't you try this?" Jenny said, surfacing from the shadows with a clean white pill at the center of her palm. Harrison stood up straighter, squinting at her in the darkness. She almost looked surreal with her straight blonde hair hanging down around her face, her white gown reaching down to her feet.

"Well, fuck me, sweetheart," Harrison chuckled. He paused, leaning towards her. "_Literally_, I hope."

Jenny was not amused.

"What have you got there?" Harrison continued, oblivious to the tension in the room, not finding any of it strange in the slightest. Jenny gave it to him silently, dropping the pill into his hand, then stepping away once more. "So serious, baby," Harrison sighed as he popped the tablet onto his tongue. "What? Is Damien not doing it for you? You look like you could use some fun."

"Fun," Jenny echoed, remembering Diana's tears, wet on her shoulder as she sobbed for hours and hours.

"Fun," Harrison laughed as he swallowed it down. He felt the rush crawl beneath his skin, roll under his fingertips, cloud his head over. In his mind, he thought, "_Next stop, oblivion." _He lolled his head to the side when the candles began to die out in perfect synchronization, until the room was blanketed in darkness. Jenny disappeared, as did the outline of the wall, as did his own body, it seemed. "What's…what's this?"

"Not fun," came Jenny's voice again. He couldn't see her, but he felt her light breath on his ear. "It's called blind fear, Harrison. And I hope you enjoy it. After all, it's a taste of your own medicine."

:::

On the morning of January 27th, Harrison Callahan stumbled up the cobblestone driveway of the Briar House, in direct view of the front courtyard, clad only in his soiled tighty-whities. He had woken up in the woods at 3 AM, freezing and lost. And although Chuck and Damien had only planted him less than a mile from campus, making sure that the weather wasn't so cold that he would freeze to death without his clothes, Harrison got freaked out by the sound of a night owl and peed himself.

"Oh. My. God," a senior laughed, snapping the first of many pictures to come. Harrison cursed, angry tears in his eyes, as he stumbled up the front steps.

"Well, what the fuck are you all looking at, losers?" Harrison yelled, spitting on the ground. He had nowhere to turn. Everywhere he looked, there was a wall of students – by the entrance, on the balconies, tossing a morning Frisbee outside. When he turned again, he came face-to-face with Penelope, who had a cheerful smile on her face.

"I have to admit that I'm not their biggest fan right now…but I'm impressed with their work." Penelope glanced down at his underwear before brushing past him. "You might want to clean that up, _babe_."

And just as he'd done to her just days before, Penelope left Harrison in the dust.

The weeks that followed were what could only be described as social torture for Harrison. Girls wouldn't talk to him, and the "bro's" that had always doted on his every word now shrugged him off. They had lost their respect for the boy who cried superiority. They had lost their respect for the boy who had…wet his pants. His only consolation was Blair, who was still at his side, painfully listening to his rants and speeches. No one could quite understand why she hadn't shunned him like the rest, but they didn't dare to ask. After all, she was still Queen. Even if the girls didn't want to touch him with a ten-foot pole, they wouldn't question _her _taste.

Luckily, the speculation came to an end when the rest of the plan was set in motion. She and Harrison were walking to their morning classes when she spotted Chuck and Eric hovering over a computer in the lab. She quickly averted Harrison's attention, caught Chuck's eye as she pulled the other boy near the assembly hall, as she distracted him from the stack of explicit photos of Harrison in her friends' hands.

"Mmm, feisty," Harrison groaned. Blair tried not to tense when his clammy hands found purchase up and under the back of her shirt right away. She shut her eyes, then opened them. Chuck was there, watching them from the far corner, an inexplicable expression on his face. His nightmare, what he thought had happened after the Saints and Sinner's ball, was playing out right before his eyes like some sort of crooked film reel.

"Harrison," Blair whispered. Her hands were still at her sides, and Harrison bit into the side of her neck. She and Chuck flinched at the same time. She was breathless, and she heard herself telling him to stop, felt his knee between her thighs and choked on her breath. And then Chuck was lunging forward, a blind fury in his eyes that could kill a man. Her mind raced, and she reached for control, reached for her sanity. But how far was…too far? Blair gasped for breath, Harrison closed in around her.

_Not far enough._ She lifted her chin, forced her face over Harrison's shoulder, trained her eyes on Chuck and mouthed, "Wait."

But it was like pleading with a madman. And so she had to act. _Fast._

Her tiny hand reached behind her, grasped for a brass knob. She forced herself to recall the assembly schedule, who was on the other side of the door behind her. Blair bowed her body against Harrison, leaned in to whisper in his ear as she turned the knob. "Are you going to rape me like you raped Diana?" This threw him off balance, and as he jerked his head back to look at her, Blair pushed the door open and screamed as loudly as she was capable of screaming. They landed on the floor of the assembly stage, Harrison pinning her down as Blair yelled for help, their heads right at the headmistress's feet.

"_What _is the meaning of this?" the headmistress hissed, shoving Harrison aside with the tip of her heel and leaning down to help Blair up. Blair hobbled for a moment on her left foot, glanced up at the faculty members staring back at her.

"He attacked me," Blair explained, speaking to the entire crowd. "He's sick."

"Harrison," the headmistress hissed in a voice so cold that even Blair tensed up. She watched as the large woman stood over Harrison, who now cowered back in embarrassment. "We have zero tolerance for harassment in this institution. Nor do we – " The headmistress cut off when she heard cries, laughter, and screams emanating from the hallway. She narrowed her eyes, grabbed Harrison's collar and yanked him forward and into the crowd forming outside. "Make way, move please," she demanded. All around them, copied photographs were floating in the air, covering the floor, being passed off to other students.

One flew at the headmistress's face and she pulled it away, squinting at what looked like Harrison Callahan's...well...Her scream could be heard across campus.

The picture crumpled in the woman's fist, and she twisted Harrison's collar in her hand, nearly choking him. "My office. _Now_. And somebody – call the authorities."

Blair made way for the furious principal, brushed past Harrison on his way around her. And just under her breath, making sure that only he could hear, Blair murmured, "Game over."

:::

_February 8__th__, 2008: The Headmistress's Office_

Blair exhaled, palms sliding across the wall behind her. The storm was over – for now. She heard yelling, heard fists pounding on wooden tables. The headmistress had her door shut, but through shuttered windows, Blair caught the shadows of two furious parents, of a stern principal, of a bastard coming face-to-face with the ultimate issuer of karma – Blair Waldorf.

She'd gone through this already, written out her statement in prim handwriting. Harrison had tried to rape her, she'd confessed. Maybe it was twisted and orchestrated – but those were the words that Diana never got to say. Still, Blair felt…uneasy. She'd never admit that this new world, the Briar that was suddenly resting in the palm of her hands, was out of her princess-y, societal league. This was dark, and it was messy, and her happily-ever-after was tainted with more tragedies than she could count.

Blair pulled her MAC compact from the bottom of her purse, studied her miniature, morphed reflection, and did not recognize the girl staring back. She was a jagged version of Fifth Avenue shopping, slumber parties, and visits to Tiffany's. Her lips were plumper, her cleavage slightly visible underneath her neat uniform, her hair was dark, her eyes screamed danger. She was changing into a person that she couldn't even fathom. It was beyond herself, beyond what Serena had always been.

What _was _beyond Serena, anyway? Blair had no idea. She had always considered herself superior to all others. But in all honesty, she had never even allowed herself to go there.

"Oh, Blair," a steady voice exclaimed. Blair jumped, nearly dropping her compact as Mrs. Reginald appeared in front of her. The woman had kind eyes, bland clothing, troubled lines across her face. Why on Earth would she choose to absorb the pain of others for a living? It was so…unpleasant.

Blair swallowed, realizing that she'd taken on all of Chuck's burdens without a second thought.

"Hello," Blair greeted tonelessly.

"Blair, you've missed all of our appointments as of late," Mrs. Reginald stated with a gentle sigh. "If this continues, I'll have to inform – "

"My mother?" Blair let out a breathy little laugh. "It would be a valiant attempt. But the only things _she _mothers are Prada and Versace when she travels overseas." Blair paused. "She's not interested. And neither am I."

Mrs. Reginald gave a slow, disappointed shake of her head. "I did think that our talks were helpful to you, Blair."

"Well, you _did _think wrong," Blair corrected. She watched Mrs. Reginald shake her head once more before turning to walk away, and she suddenly felt that panicked ache in her chest, that verbal upheaval that forced out a, "Wait."

Mrs. Reginald glanced over her shoulder. "Yes, Blair?"

"What if you were to find someone who made you feel…" Blair trailed off. It was stupid to make the statement hypothetical. After their little confrontation before the Saints and Sinners ball, the counselor knew exactly who Blair had fallen for. She took a deep breath and met Mrs. Reginald's gaze dead on. "I've found someone who's made me forget who I am. But I'm burning, and I'm _alive_. Is that so wrong?"

Mrs. Reginald pursed her lips, considering this. "Perhaps you'll find that you're not forgetting who you are, Blair." Her smile was unwavering. "Perhaps you're just finding out."

"That's impossible," Blair scoffed. But she wasn't so sure.

"Maybe so," Mrs. Reginald sighed with a slight shrug. "Then again, what do I know?" And then she was gone.

Blair considered going after her until a door slammed open behind her, an unnatural boom across the otherwise silent hall. Harrison was furiously, eyes near the color of coal when he caught sight of her. She crossed her arms over her chest, forcing herself into an indignant, carefree stance.

"You _fucking _bitch," Harrison spat, his hands coming down to the wall on either side of her head.

She didn't even flinch.

"You say that like it's an insult," Blair sighed, sounding rather bored.

"Do you know what you've done? I'm expelled. My parents are pissed. I might face actual charges. My life is _ruined _because you wanted to play some prudish game. You couldn't have saved this shit for Bass?"

Blair scowled, wiping a fleck of his spit that had landed on her right cheek. "Well, when you're done with the waterworks, you can back away, Harrison. I do believe that you're done here."

He narrowed his eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you raped my friend," Blair stated evenly. And although she was only a petite 5'6", he shrunk down before her, weakened under her glare. "You should have learned from your fool of a cling-on, Penelope. _You _answer to _me_."

His fist curled beside her head. "You fucking wish."

Blair sighed, letting out a little _tsk _between her teeth. "Careful. You wouldn't want to add physical violence to your charges." Her eyes grew wide, amused, nearly inhumane when she looked at him again. "Now you know what it feels to be stripped down and humiliated." Harrison stumbled back, remembering that night after their faux Victor/Victrola meeting. "_Now _you've shown the world how absolutely revolting you are." As she said it, Blair reached into her purse and pulled out the spare copies of Harrison's raunchy photos. She shoved them into his chest with a surprising amount of force. "Now you know what it feels like to lose everything."

And on cue, two middle-aged, stern adults surfaced from the headmistress's office.

"What the hell are you doing, harassing that girl again?"

"Dad – "

"Thank God you're here, Mr. Callahan," Blair breathed, keeping her eyes on Harrison as she spoke. "I was just heading back to the dorms when your son came at me again." With her back half-turned away from his parents, her lips safely curled into a victorious grin. "I almost feared for my life."

"Goddammit. This is _it, _Harrison," his father spat, brushing past Blair. "I told you what would happen if you kept being the little punk that you are."

"Dad – "

"No, you're not going to get out of it like that this time. You wanted to test me? You wanted me to listen? Fine. I'm here, Harrison. And I'll be there next Monday morning, when the bus to military school comes to pick you up. "

"Oh," Blair's lips parted in faux surprise as his father jerked his head towards the exit. "You seem to have issues with your anger. Maybe you've truly found your calling."

Harrison shook his head, spat on the ground beside her Tory Burch flats and snarled, "Go to hell."

Blair stepped away from the stain and replied, "I'll see you there."

:::

_February 8__th__, 2008: Wentworth Hall Dormitories_

"Here," Jenny whispered, cleaning up the cut on Blair's arm, the one she'd gained from her tumble to the floor. Blair stared blankly at the wall as the blonde placed a pretty pink Cath Kidston bandage near Blair's elbow. She glanced up at her, blue eyes blinking as she offered her a glass of raspberry lemonade. "Okay…please don't call me a loser."

Blair frowned. "Why would I call you – "

"Because you're my hero," Jenny murmured. "It makes me sound like I'm a stupid kid, but...being your roommate was the best thing that ever happened to me. Becoming your friend was, I mean." Jenny smiled, suddenly embarrassed. "I never realized what I as capable of before you brought it out of me."

"J…" Blair trailed off, tried to rolled her eyes, but her voice sounded incredibly choked up instead.

"You sound like a Lifetime movie," Diana suddenly groaned. When she plopped on the bed, she pulled Blair in for an enormous hug, but for a different reason this time. She kissed her friend on the cheek, and Blair immediately wiped it off, but Diana didn't mind. "You're my hero, too, B. I can't even begin to tell you…"

"Enough, both of you," Blair murmured. "As much as I love to be praised…let's keep the daytime soap material _on _the television." She pretended to pick an eyelash from her cheek, which looked suspiciously like a teardrop. She was just about to direct their attention elsewhere when a knock on the door startled them all. It was Blair who answered, opening up to reveal the mess that was now Chuck Bass. His hair hadn't been cut in such a long time, and now those beautiful dark locks curled around his ears. His lips were parted as he leaned one hand against the hall, as he looked at her with swells under his eyes.

"I'm...suddenly craving fro-yo," Diana announced, tossing Jenny's coat at her and heading for the door. "J? You in?" Jenny nodded quickly, darting past the couple at her doorway, and Chuck bowed his head as the two passed. Blair watched them go, then pulled Chuck inside.

She put her hands on his shoulders, touched the nape of his neck, kissed his chin and smelled liquor. Blair was about to comment on it, but he spoke first. "Where did he…" Chuck cut off, walked her backwards until the backs of her knees hit the bed and together they sank onto the sheets. "Where did he put his hands…where did he touch you?" It wasn't sexual when Chuck touched her now. He wanted to give her what she gave him, but he didn't know how, didn't know… "I don't know how to love you. I don't know how to keep you, Blair."

He was drunk and his voice was weak, but he was honest, and Blair felt hot tears spring to her eyes as he dug his face into the ample part of her chest, wrapped his arms around her tiny waist. The material of her robe scratched lightly against his cheek.

"Chuck, you don't have to…" Blair spoke against his hair, passed a hand down his back to keep him close. "It was a scheme. It was _us_…who we are and what we do." She tried to reassure him, tried to reassure herself. She lifted one leg around his waist, and he groaned against her neck. But his eyes were so tormented when she looked up at him, and she couldn't possibly understand, but she did. She always did.

So she allowed him to consume the entirety of her aching body, of her fragile bones, of her trembling skin, with his touch. She allowed him to pass over the new scar on her arm, the old one on her thigh, allowed him to kiss around the ugly bite mark on her neck and replace it with the remembrance of his lips on her skin.

Her eyes fluttered shut hours and hours later, long after her body had re-memorized his touch, his breathing evened out, and a wave of sobriety hit him. Chuck cradled Blair under one arm beneath her duvet. And she was only half-asleep, half-unconscious when he reached down to speak against the hollow spot at the base of her throat. "I don't know how to love you," Chuck repeated, his voice husky, his eyes closed. "But I still do."

* * *

**A/N: **Hey guys! I feel like it's been a terribly long time (because it has been). But I am so excited to finally get this up for all you who've been supporting me through all of the FF drama I've been experiencing. I'm not going to get into that now because I'm seeing this as a great new start to my writing. I'm going to continue updating SAS and OTS more regularly in the following weeks, along with a few one-shot requests that I still have to get to. I also have three projects to replace the ones I'm writing now once I'm finished with them. If you want to find out more about them, you can PM me, tweet me (I'm finally on Twitter), or ask me on Tumblr/Formspring. All links are now in my bio.

As for my personal project (the book I'm writing), I'm still working on that, and it's going strong. Chapter One of Wires is now set nine months later, not five. Sorry I made the change so late into the story, but the timing just works much better with the plot.

Anyway, I hope that made sense! If not, feel free to ask me a question! I hope you guys all drop a review, even if it's to let me know that you're still reading. I can't wait to hear what you guys think. Your feedback, song suggestions, and support definitely keeps me going. Talk to you soon! xoxo, N


	13. Holding Me Under

**Chapter 13: Holding Me Under**

_We might kiss when we are alone._

_When nobody's watching, we might take it home._

_We might make out when nobody's there._

_It's not that we're scared, it's just that it's delicate._

_We might live like never before._

_When there's nothing to give, well how can we ask for more?_

_We might make love in some sacred place._

_The look on your face is delicate._

**- Delicate by Damien Rice**

:::

_February 8__th__, 2008: Wentworth Hall Dormitories_

There was some sort of odd satisfaction in waking up before Chuck did. Blair was an avid romantic, no matter how unfortunate that fact was, so she couldn't help herself when she leaned up on one elbow and stared down at Chuck Bass, whose lips were slightly parted, a faint crease between his brows as he slept. He still wore his dress pants from the night before, black slacks that rode low just slightly to reveal his silk, navy boxers. Blair bit down on one lip - still slightly swollen from the way he'd kissed her the night before, again and again for every time Harrison had so much as looked in her direction. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned, revealing just a bit of the hair on his chest. Blair lifted a hand, passed her fingertips just above his skin and inhaled. His lips twitched in his sleep, and Blair smiled, leaned in until she was just a breath away.

Blair had met a boy months ago, one who'd promised her torturous games. And now here she was, in bed with a man who had told her he loved her in the most crooked, unbalanced way he could, a man who had thrust her into a mania that only _he_ could save her from, a man who...who now had his eyes opened wide, a smile on his lips.

"See something you like?"

Blair yanked away, eyes widening in horror as a now fully-alert Chuck Bass stared back at her, sleepy hazel eyes alight with mischief. He stretched his arms out, curled into her, pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her forearm in a way that made Blair tremble beneath her skin.

"Bass." Blair narrowed her eyes, crossed her arms over her silk robe, the dainty white nightie underneath. The room was still dark, and the cover of dimness made Blair pull closer to Chuck, despite her annoyance. "You were awake, and you let me..."

"I allowed you to continue stalking me," Chuck quipped, touching her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "You seemed to be enjoying it so much." He laughed, a startlingly authentic chuckle that brought a small smile onto Blair's lips. And then he had her tiny waist wrapped up in two of his hands, and they were both sinking back into Blair's soft sheets. "It's amusing when you watch me, Waldorf. You get so wistful, like you're the star of your own little classic." He raised a brow, toyed with the lapel of her robe, slid a fingertip across the skin underneath. "If only Audrey could see you now."

Blair frowned, pinched Chuck's shoulder until he begrudgingly released her. In a low huff she whispered, "I'm no longer acknowledging you."

"Good," Chuck murmured against the back of her neck. "It's five in the morning. I have to maintain my classic good looks somehow." She didn't need to see the devilish smirk to know that it was there. "Wouldn't want to leave you without something to stare at."

Blair meant to hit him, she really did, but when she lifted a hand, he hooked himself around her, pulled her against the crook of his slumbered front. Sometimes this - him, the way he touched her, the way they so flawlessly fit into one another - it overwhelmed her senses, made her lose sight of anything before Chuck. She thought of dates and parties and brunches that had once been clouded over with fantasies about Nate, competitions against Serena - through it all, she now saw Chuck in the background. He was a page she had somehow skipped over, and now...she couldn't be bothered to remember the beginning or fathom how it all ended. Chuck Bass was her favorite part.

Blair smiled at the thought, smiled her way back into a more quiet slumber. She'd felt haunted when she'd first arrived at Briar, had spent more than a few sleepless nights up late with romance novels and nighttime television because she was afraid of where sleep might take her. But the nightmares came less often now, and never when she slept beside Chuck. There weren't contorted faces or pieces of twisted porcelain anymore. Instead, she...was home again.

The dream was hazy tonight, her vision was filtered through a cloud of empty smoke as she took a few light steps into the Waldorf penthouse, still dressed in her Briar uniform. The halls were as gray as fog got when it wrapped around the East River after rain, and she knew that this could not be real. But she carried on anyway, trailed her fingers across portrait-less walls, climbed the grand staircase in silence. When she reached the top, her door was slightly ajar, light from her room spilling out and into the hallway. She pressed her hand against the wood, stepped inside, and found violet bursting from ever corner of the room. Her bed sheets screamed royal, and an array of collectible dolls and accessories were shelved and on display. Blair frowned. Her room hadn't looked like this since her mother's third remodel, and that had been -

"Oh my God." Blair lost her breath when another girl appeared before her, brown curls bouncing as she turned away from the vanity at the front of the room to glance back at Blair. It was...her. Or, a younger version of her. This Blair was short and more petite, baby fat making her cheeks a bit plumper. But even at eleven, her lipgloss was flawless, her expression severe, her eyes ruthless.

The miniature Blair frowned, dropped the brush in her hand. "You're...me."

"Actually," the real Blair clarified, "You're _me_." She patted down her navy kilt, pursed her lips before taking a seat at the foot of her old bed. "I'm older than you. I'm..." Blair trailed off in slight disbelief. Why was she explaining herself to this hallucination? "I'm seventeen now."

"Oh," the mini-Blair murmured. She resumed what she was doing, went back to fiddling with something atop her vanity counter. The real Blair huffed at her blatant dismissal, stood up to peer at what she was doing. In her smaller, ruddier palms was a golden, heart-shaped trinket. She played with it for a moment, clasped it into a jewel-encrusted pin and smiled.

"Oh," the older Blair realized. "You're still in love with Nate."

The miniature Blair whipped her head up. "What are you trying to say?"

"I mean, you're going to give that to him, aren't you? You take the ruby ring, you give him your...heart." The real Blair shook her head, realized how silly it sounded now. "I'm just saying that you shouldn't bother with the formalities. And you most definitely shouldn't string yourself along with Nate. It's going to end badly, and you're going to ask for it back.

The younger Blair stifled a gasp. "You screwed it up for us, didn't you?"

"_Excuse _me?" The real Blair let out a bitter laugh. "If you'd deign to get over your own insolence, you'd realize that we're the same person. Whatever I've already done, you're going to do, too. It doesn't _work _with Nate. I was a child then. There are other things, bigger things than sitting at his lacrosse games and getting grass stains on your Chanel. I didn't know what it meant to fall so madly, to fall so deeply for another person then – not with Nate. But I do now."

"You sound weak."

The real Blair curled her hand into a fist, caught sight of a photograph framed atop her old nightstand, two brunettes and a golden blonde having a picnic in Central Park. The print only served to infuriate her more. "Nate _fucks _Serena. He fucks your best friend. Does that screw it up enough for you?"

"Why are you acting like this? You're like...unhinged." The miniature Blair let out a crisp sigh. She sat up from the vanity, walked her older doppelgänger back until the real Blair fell onto the bed. "And…why are you dressed that way? That's not the Constance uniform."

"Which would make sense," Blair murmured. "Seeing as how I don't attend Constance anymore. I was sent away, not that it's any of your business yet."

"My God," the smaller Blair mocked, bringing her hands together in a slow, taunting clap. "Congratulations. You've officially become Serena." Her prepubescent features crinkled into a heavy frown. "Or worse...that drunken fool, Chuck Bass."

"Don't talk about him that way."

"Why do you care?"

Blair narrowed her eyes, and the girl mirrored her expression exactly. Was it even possible to out-bitch herself? Why was she getting so worked up, anyway? Soon, she'd wake up, and this would be nothing but a bizarre nightmare.

"Because you...I fall for Chuck Bass. I fall for the debauchery, the madness in his eyes, the leering, the snarky comments, the idiotic scarf he wears, the bowties he somehow manages to pull off. I fall for the way he loves his mother, even if it's breaking him down, even if loving her pulled him under. I fall for the way he makes me so furious that I can't even see straight, then brings me pleasure just the same. I fall for him irrevocably," Blair took a deep breath. "And he tells me that he loves me. Chuck Bass _loves_ me."

The other girl was quiet for a moment, and through the panic, the exasperation, Blair could feel consciousness slipping over her once again. The image began to fade, and she stumbled back, but still, she could faintly hear, "And what did you say?" Then, "Did you...say it back?"

Blair paused. "No, I didn't. I mean, I haven't. Not yet, at least."

She saw the curve of her own lips smile back at her, saw her own cold reflection saying, "Good. Because he's going to break your heart."

The words echoed across her mind, whispered to her again and again, a horrific melody ringing in her ear. _Because he's going to break your heart. Because he's going to -_

"Waldorf?

Blair sat up in bed, fighting for breath as if she were a fish out of water. Her fingertips dug into the flurry of sheets beside her. She felt a hand on her back, Chuck's palm set against her thin robe, passing up across the fabric to press into the back of her neck. Blair tensed, dropped her face into hands as she tried to calm herself down. "Waldorf," she heard him whisper again, closer to her face, breath hot on the curve of her ear. "Talk to me. Breathe. Is it like before, when we were kids?" He was being so gentle, and so considerate. It made the entire situation even headier than before. But before she could react, she heard her phone chime from across the room, saw her screen flash bright in the midst of early morning shadows. Chuck let her go, watched as she picked up.

"Mother," Blair murmured. She cast a glance at Chuck, rolled her eyes at him, jerked her hand up in an impatient gesture. "This is a...surprise." Blair cleared her throat, returned to her previous perch in front of Chuck. Whether it was a pleasant surprise or a potentially catastrophic one, she didn't know.

"Blair, _what _is going on?" _Ah_, catastrophic it was.

"You'll have to be more specific," Blair sighed into the receiver. As she spoke, she pressed the phone between her ear and shoulder, undid her robe until it pooled around her waist. She could feel Chuck's eyes trained on the nape of her neck, and she decided to toy with him, allowed her midnight black Bordelle nightie to slip from one shoulder. Blair was pleased to hear a sharp intake of breath from Chuck as her mother barked commands to some service staff in French. She felt his lips on her shoulder soon after, and she closed her eyes, fell backwards until her back was flush against his chest.

"Your headmistress called me," Eleanor droned as if she couldn't even be bothered to have this conversation. "She explained that there's some sort of _trouble _you've been involved with. Parties in the woods, frolicking with boys in school hallways. Blair, this was supposed to be a learning lesson for you, a prestigious institution where you could gather your thoughts, center yourself, remember that all of the drama isn't worth the price of your future."

"I would hardly call being attacked by a psychopathic rapist - _frolicking_."

"I thought," Eleanor continued airily, "that after you refocused, you'd be able to return to Constance for your final semester next year, graduate with your peers, save face in front of the people who will determine your future." At these words, Blair froze. Behind a wall of ivy, tucked into a nothingness beneath miles and miles of brambles and bushes, it was so easy to forget that life existed beyond Briar. She did have a future - at Yale, wearing pearls to seminar, having brunch with society's finest on the quad every weekend. And high school, even one as secluded and lavish as this one, would just be a memory.

"Return to - " Blair cut off, realizing that Chuck's lips had halted in their path across her collarbone. He was now peering at her curiously, head cocked to one side as Blair contemplated the appropriate response. "That all sounds fine, Mother. I'm not in any trouble. I'm just...adjusting. It was a big change, nearly uncalled for - "

"Yes, well, that's life, Blair. It's good that you get used to such changes while you're young." She heard Eleanor bark off more orders, a sharp contrast to Chuck's soft, naughty murmurs against her ear. His hand wrapped around her shoulder, dragged down to her hip. Chuck kissed her cheek, just under the curve of her chin, and Blair struggled to stave off a soft whimper. Until her mother spoke again. "You know, Serena made the front of the society pages."

Blair paused, narrowed her eyes. "Oh."

"She's been visiting the penthouse so often..." Eleanor trailed off, feigning nonchalance. But Blair immediately knew what she was doing, knew the voice of someone who was proving the point without uttering the actual words. "I've had her wear my designs out to her events. She has the stature of a model, and the poise of all of those other socialites. Seeing her there, so matured, made me think of how proud Lily must be."

Blair wasn't sure if Chuck could hear her mother's words through the veil of her hair, the broken reception of her cell. But it was almost as if he _knew_, as if he could sense her need the moment she drew in a breath, pressed her lips tightly together. He hushed her, ceased his sexual advances in favor of laying them both down. Blair closed her eyes, pressed her shoulder against his and murmured, "Did you call me for a reason, Mother?"

"I did," Eleanor sighed once more. "About that dinner for the parents of Briar..."

"It's a brunch," Blair corrected.

"Yes, well, I won't be able to make it. Cyrus and I are staying at this wonderful little waterfront chateau in Vienna. It's a marvelous change in scenery. You should really consider doing something more worldly with your spare time, Blair. Of course, you'll have to do the best with your existing resources at Briar, but - "

It was more than what Blair could take. In life, despite her social ranking, despite her class order, she was always a step below on the footstool, a diamond just one karat less. She had waded in still waters for so long, waiting for Eleanor to pull her through.

But there were other seas, Blair decided. Murkier, yes. But she preferred to drown in comfort rather than sink in toxic waste.

So just as Eleanor was in the middle of listing yet another reason why Blair was such a major disappointment, Blair rolled her eyes and ended the call, dropped her phone, let it skid across the floor. And then she stared up at the ceiling, grateful that Chuck didn't have to look at her to understand why her heart didn't quite beat as fast as those of others.

"That was the mother of the year," Blair smirked, eyes still trained above her. "She was calling to announce that she won't be in attendance of the brunch on Sunday." She shifted, rubbed her shoulder against his, just to touch him, just to feel him there. He was the most unstable man she'd ever met, but somehow, she could only find reassurance in him. "Because nothing says family like an absent mother."

"What a coincidence," Chuck drawled. "Father Dearest is skipping out as well. Perhaps they've plotted something together." He teased her this time, kissed her neck, pulled her skin between his lips until he bruised beyond her skin. She moaned and he went on, down below her collarbone, whispering between kisses, "You know, I could...go for the whole stepsister thing if it was you." Blair rolled her eyes, felt him smile against the curve of her breast.

"Does anything innocent ever occur to you?"

Chuck feigned contemplation. "No."

"Of course not," Blair huffed. "God forbid you be considered a nice guy."

"That sounds...immensely boring," Chuck commented with a dismissive little wave. He perched up on one elbow, glanced across the room at Jenny's still-made bed. "It seems like we've permanently scared Humphrey away." He spread his fingers out over Blair's stomach and smiled. "Spend the day with me."

Blair shook her head. "Why?"

"There's no agenda, Waldorf," Chuck smirked. "At this point, I believe that I've made it pretty clear that I enjoy your company."

"As you have with other things," Blair hinted, alluding to his half-conscious confession from the night before. But Chuck only stared back at her, and the madness that had previously struck him was now gone. Perhaps he was bipolar, Blair thought to herself. That certainly explained the brooding, pouty-lipped James Dean on some days and the suave, smooth-tongued James _Bond_ on others. _Fantastic. _She had fallen for not one, but two sociopaths. She really should've considered breaking this off, if only for the sake of her mental health.

Chuck raised his eyebrows and turned up his lips at the same time, looking infuriatingly attractive. Blair frowned back at him. How did he _do _that? How had she not noticed the smolder before? Blair sighed aloud this time. Perhaps she would consider her mental health on a latter date. Which reminded her...

"I'm not going to _ditch _a whole day of classes, Chuck," Blair protested, hopping up from bed. Chuck groaned at the loss of contact, stretched his arms out to come up with nothing. "Besides, thanks to our little stunt, Mrs. Reginald has ordered mandatory meetings to ensure my emotional stability. If I fail to comply, the action will result in a - " Blair crinkled her nose. " - a detention."

He chuckled then. "Waldorf, make that facial expression again."

Blair crossed her arms, cocked one hip. "Get out of my room."

"And miss the sight of you rolling up those knee-highs and buttoning that...sinfully angelic schoolgirl Oxford of yours?" Chuck pondered this with one finger on his chin. "No thank you. Your conversation with Eleanor did, however prompt an interesting idea. I think you'll want to hear it."

"Oh?"

"Why should we be present and parent-less at such a family-oriented event when..." Chuck trailed off, pulled out his cell phone to begin making arrangements. "I have a much more unsupervised alternative in mind?"

:::

_February 9__th__, 2008: The Courtyard_

"Yes, yes, so much yes," Diana yelped, clapping her hands together before Blair could conclude her play-by-play of their recently-made weekend arrangements. They were sitting out by the courtyard, sipping hot chocolates as their peers milled about, utterly oblivious to what they were planning. While the others would be hiding their stashes of booze and debauchery, practicing their finest mindless grins, _they_ would be heading off to the city, clinking flutes of champagne, en route to a palace. Well, Chuck's palace, at least.

"That's sick," Damien agreed, nudging Diana's arm.

"How very concise of both you," Blair murmured. "I can see why you get along so well with Diana, Damien. You two just have such a way with words."

"That's just B bringing out the verbal abuse when she's excited," Diana announced, tugging at the scarf around Blair's neck. "Why do you think she and Chuck are always fighting?" Diana laughed at Blair's scowl and tugged again. But when she felt for the material, it wasn't Blair's usual silky Hermes. This one was thicker, knit and woven, nothing Blair would be caught dead in unless - Diana remembered Chuck's bare neck at breakfast that morning - it was a gift. "Well then," Diana murmured pointedly, smirking at Blair's fingers, which were now fiddling with material. "That's quite a scarf, Blair."

Blair sighed. "Do you realize that you're not as cute or as sly as you think you are?"

This time, Damien chimed in. "Man, that looks exactly like the one Chuck was sporting when I first met him. And he hasn't been able to part with it since. I mean, he doesn't even let me _touch _it, but I guess that someone's whipped now."

Diana grinned at Blair. "Looks like he's not the only one."

"Hilarious," Blair drawled, clasping her hands atop her lap. "Especially coming from a boy who spouts soliloquies every time a mousy little blonde so much as breathes in your direction, Damien." Blair shot him a cheerful smile. "And yes, Chuck told me about the tights."

"Tights? What tights?" Jenny suddenly appeared behind Damien, hands filled with a pile of textbooks and notepads. Damien cursed under his breath as he got up to peck Jenny's wind-kissed cheek. Jenny closed her eyes, leaned into his lips, then proceeded to dump the pile into his hands - nearly knocking the breath out of him.

"Thank you for the announcement, Blair," Damien groaned, setting the pile down on one of the stone benches beside them. "I really appreciated that."

Blair smiled again, but it was slightly kinder now, as if they had reached some sort of even ground. "Anytime, Dalgaard."

"Was that too heavy?" Jenny frowned. "Sorry. Winter finals are kicking my butt, especially in the design program. I feel like I'm dying."

"As do I with all of this complaining," Blair retorted. "Honestly, Jenny. Finals aren't until two weeks from now, and we have much bigger issues to attend to. So quit moping. It's depressing."

Jenny glanced up in disbelief and tucked a strayed strand of blonde away from her face. "Bigger issues than my scholarship? You guys...get one failed test, one awful grade, and you have nothing to lose. But I have to keep up, balance all of this stuff...and it's hard. It's really difficult, and I'm not like you guys. I'm not like any of you." Silence followed her words, and even Blair was forced to shift uncomfortably at the blonde's admission. It was easy to forget that Jenny was struggling, difficult to look past things that shone so brightly in their eyes. Jenny didn't want their sympathy, but they would never understand her. She looked around at her group of new friends, blue eyes wide. How long would it be until she was just that poor girl who used to supply the yogurt?

"Well, I can't argue with that," Diana offered, hoping to ease the tension. "But I can offer a distraction that'll possibly outmatch Damien's tights."

"Damien's wearing tights?" Ethan chimed in, appearing at the helm of the cobblestoned path that led back up to the Main Hall. He tossed a football in the air then caught it again with swift fingers. Behind him, Eric and Chuck were engaged in conversation. But the moment he caught Blair's eye, Eric's words were lost on him. It wasn't a full-blown smile – no, Chuck wasn't capable of that. But his features did brighten, and his gaze pulled from her flushed face to her little skirt, the red tights beneath them. Even the tin man had his vices, Blair supposed.

"Thanks for telling Blair about the tights, you prick." Damien grumbled in Chuck's general direction. But he halted his complaints when he realized that his friend was already seated beside the object of his infatuation, making some comment about her ponytail, and how convenient it would be to – "No," Damien quickly cut in, using one hand to cover his ear, using his other to cover Jenny's in mock protection. "We're not interested in hearing a play-by-play. This happens every time."

"You two take PDA to the next level," Diana seconded, throwing a tiny piece of gravel at the couple, who was clearly ignoring their protests.

"All in favor of a ban on eye-sex?" Eric offered, raising his hand. Ethan smirked, but after a rough shove from Eric, he begrudgingly agreed. Diana and Damien quickly followed suit. And after an ounce of hesitation, Jenny waved her fingertips in the air, avoiding Blair's severe glare that practically hissed, _traitor_. While pounding an imaginary gavel through the air, Eric huffed, "Ban on eye-sex approved."

"Ban on eye-sex ignored," Chuck immediately countered, shamelessly using his own scarf to tug Blair closer.

"I – " Blair cut off, refusing to allow Chuck to fluster her this way. She placed her hand flat on his chest, pressed the heel of one Louboutin flat on the ground, quickly followed by the other. "We are partaking in no such activity," Blair sniffed. "It's just Chuck's face. He comes in either brooding or smarmy." Blair rolled her eyes. "There is no in between."

"Anyway," Chuck continued upon her finishing, as if they were one steady stream of wickedness, as if speaking in sync was as easy as breathing for them. "I'll need to make quiet arrangements at The Palace to avoid the wrath of Bart upon our arrival. So I need a headcount."

"I'm in – obviously," Diana chirped. Beside her, Damien raised a finger in agreement.

"We're not," Eric sighed. "Ethan and I will be fortunate enough to sit through stiff conversation, parental brag-offs and stale brunch this Sunday." He paused, glancing at the blonde beside him. "I mean, the three of us will, right? Isn't your dad coming up, Jen?"

"Oh…right," Jenny murmured. Eric's words halted the flurry of champagne-soaked fantasies running through her mind. A night in the city had the potential to pry a starlet out of the little girl who draped herself in disguises, a pin cushion of a different kind. And staying in a room, in Damien's proximity, far away from this mess of rules and code of conduct? Just the thought of it brought on an unfamiliar sensation in the pit of her stomach. But then again, there was the problem of her father and brother, who were constantly worried that she'd return as some horrid Park Avenue piranha. And she wasn't even allowed off campus as a sophomore, but –

"Do you realize how perfect this is?" Diana suddenly whispered in Jenny's ear. "I've already texted Nate, and he has something planned for us." Jenny tensed up, glanced at Blair, but the brunette was heavily distracted by Chuck's murmurings. Diana persisted, "I hate to say it, but Chuck Bass might have actually redeemed himself with this one."

Well, Jenny had her answer. As if she could possibly let Diana run loose with Nate around Manhattan when the queen was also in town. The blonde shook her head, pulled out her cell to dial home. _Someone_ had to do damage control.

As she went off to make a call, Ethan and Eric found peace in their own private conversation about the upcoming weekend. They had a comfortable relationship despite Ethan's jock-cover and Eric's wariness of the news getting back to Ethan's father. But as Ethan tossed him the football, affection clear on his handsome features, Eric realized that some risks were just begging to be taken.

"So, your parents," Eric murmured. "…Great."

"Yeah," Ethan said in a slight droll. "The excitement is…killing me. But hey – " Ethan glanced around the frosted courtyard before dropping an arm around Eric's shoulder. "At least we have each other, right?"

"Now that you mention it," Eric started, not sure how to go about his argument. "Don't you think you should steer clear of me while your parents are around? I mean, your dad is a little intense." A _little _was an understatement. "I just don't think it's worth the potential freak-out – "

"I'm going to come out to my parents," Ethan suddenly cut in. "Eventually. But I'm not going to ignore you until then. We're past that. Besides, my parents are so focused on my sister's drama that who I choose to study trig with is the farthest thing on their minds."

Eric raised his eyebrows, struggled to recollect the conversation they'd had after the Saints and Sinners ball. "Didn't your sister run away?"

"She's trouble," Ethan explained as he heaved a sigh. "And trouble always has a destination. She's never too far away, and they're never too far behind."

"Hm," Eric murmured, blue eyes raking over Ethan's grim expression. But before he could ask another question, he saw Blair shift upon the stone bench she sat on, take a last sip of her hot drink – saw her dart away from Chuck's grasp before he could pull her down again. Eric glanced at Ethan, tossed the football back into his hands. And then he too got up and shoved his hands into his pockets, jumped from foot to foot to keep warm. "I'll be right back."

"Blair," Eric called, forcing the brunette to a halt on the pathway.

"Eric…" Blair frowned at the perturbed expression on his boyish face. "What is it? I'm off to French literature."

"Blair, I didn't leak those pictures of Harrison," Eric murmured, lowering his voice when two sophomores giggled and stepped in unison as they passed by. He steered Blair off to the side, near the building's heavy shadow, a place he deemed appropriate for such secrets. "Chuck took off when he saw you with Harrison in the hall. I went to make sure that everything was okay, but when I came back…" Eric shook his head. "They were gone. Someone else took the pile. Someone else knew exactly what we were doing."

"Eric." Blair placed a light hand shoulder as she said his name. "This isn't some teen horror movie. It's not like anyone is out to _get _us." She rolled her eyes and dismissed his worries with a quick flick of her hair. "Whoever leaked those photos was only seizing on an opportunity, just as we were. And…we weren't the only ones who hated Harrison."

"I don't know," Eric murmured. "Something just…doesn't feel right."

"I know what this is really about," Blair finally concluded. As the wind picked up, she curled into her cape coat and shivered. "You're worried that Ethan's father will realize that you breached the terms of your little agreement by staying with Ethan. And while I admire your…devotion – " Blair squeezed his arm. " – you've gone through much worse this year than battling a grumpy, middle-aged tyrant. He's supposed to be prestigious, Eric. He's not going to fight a kid."

Eric shrugged one shoulder. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Look," Blair said, exasperated now. "Now you're starting to sound like Little J. We're going to be gone this weekend. _I'm _going to be gone this weekend." Her eyes were serious, her tone far from light when she commanded, "You're going to have to be a bitch enough for the both of us." And with that, she spun on her step and headed for class.

Across the courtyard, curved into the little alcove that swept away the chill from the rest of the yard, was Jenny. She let out a frustrated breath as Dan continued droned out another one of his typical lectures, that airy arrogance heavy in his tone.

"I don't understand why you can't just pass on the message without throwing in your two cents," Jenny interrupted, picking at a nail, digging her flats into the gravel below.

"I'm worried about you, Jenny."

"You're not _worried_ about me," Jenny retorted. "You just love to listen to yourself talk, and I can't do this right now, Dan."

"Why? Do they need you to run along and do their homework for them?"

"No," Jenny huffed. "Not everyone ends up like _you_." It was vicious, and there was a heavy silence that followed, as if, for a moment, Dan couldn't recognize who he was talking to. Jenny calmed herself then, tried a gentler approach. "I'm fine, okay? I just don't have time to do the brunch thing this weekend. A lot of kids don't. I'm swamped with finals."

"Fine," Dan finally agreed. He paused, and she heard him breathing, steady, even, far from the unnerved whispers of the people there at Briar. "But you're different now, Jenny. I don't know what it is, but I don't like it."

"Well," Jenny replied. "If it bothers you so much, why don't you go brood and write a book about it?"

:::

_February 12th, 2008: Somewhere Along the Hudson River_

Blair felt blindly for Chuck's hand in the backseat of his limo, clinking glasses and saluting fortitude with her other. All around them were her _friends _– even Damien, however unfortunate that arrangement was. The swanky version of a road trip mix cut into the night air as they sped down a highway into the city, and their glasses were full, their minds were on empty – and there was something that felt so unstoppable about being surrounded by those who could dance under the same dark cloud as you did, who had been struck by the same bolts of lightening.

And this time, Chuck did not tense, did not pull away when he felt her soft fingertips wrap around the palm of his hand. He continued to speak to Damien about some burlesque club that they had to check out one day in the city – Blair sunk her nails into his skin at hearing this – but he still took her hand in his, stroked his thumb over the delicate pattern of veins and goose bumps etched into her skin. Things were different now, they all knew it, they could all feel it.

Things were _going _to be different now.

The sun was just setting upon the city when they arrived in front of a gated, crème building, spiraling up in a pirouette of extravagant fixtures and lit glass windows. It was still chilly in the city, and Blair kept Chuck's scarf over her trench coat.

"Welcome to my legacy," Chuck announced in the driest tone he could muster up. He passed them all brass keys, except for Blair, who frowned at being left out. But as Diana, Damien, and Jenny skipped off and into the golden lobby, Chuck lifted one bigger key and held it in the air between them.

"The royal suite, I suppose." Blair forced herself not to sound as giddy as she felt as she took the intricately cut piece of brass.

"Hm," Chuck mused, cupped her chin with one hand. "Anything fit for a queen."

:::

_February 12th, 2008: The Palace & Bull and Bear – Waldorf Astoria_

Hours after Diana and Blair had gotten Jenny primped and prepped for their outing, after Chuck had suited up in his collared shirt, his deep violet bowtie, and slacks that seemed to fit to him perfectly, Blair pulled on a black dress that clung to her curves, stretched over her breasts and rounded them below a sweetheart neckline. She bit her lip, pinched her cheeks for a natural blush, stroked her fingers through her curls so that they were just a bit unrulier than usual. And then she stared at herself, truly took a moment to admire how much taller she looked, how her legs stretched, how the curve of her shoulders could quite possibly hold a siren's magic. And Blair finally understood, could finally see herself clearly.

Chuck Bass was attracted to her because she _was _attractive.

"Ready, B?" Diana's voice ended her little moment of self-admiration, and Blair whipped around to find her friend decked out in a sparkling shift dress – a little too Midtown for Upper East Side bar-hopping – but Blair excused her. Not everyone was cut out for this town.

When they arrived downstairs, the two boys were already waiting by the arched doorway, leaning against one of the marble walls. Blair sucked in a sharp breath, allowed Jenny and Diana to pass her by, when her eyes found Chuck. There was just something about him that called to her, despite her snarky insults, despite the many times she'd tried to convince him of the opposite. Perhaps it was the storm in his eyes, the fit of his suit, the tense, then relaxed movement of his jaw when he spoke. Blair suddenly felt like she was just walking into Briar on that first day again, the moment it became pre-destined that she would always be his.

_Are you two friends?_

_Oh, Waldorf and I go way back._

Luckily, her nerves eased when Chuck cocked his head to the side, his smirk dropping to parted lips. He pushed away from the wall, stepped forward in slight hesitation, as if he didn't know what to do with himself. Blair was pleased, delighted with his reaction to her. And it wasn't just the way the ruffles clung to her hips, gathered around her thighs. He seemed to be admiring every inch of her – the diamond studs in her ears, the suave red painted on her fingernails, the stray curl that brushed her collarbone. And then he came to her, as if he couldn't tolerate the distance between them any longer.

Blair grinned, passed a hand across his chest, took his hands and placed them on her hips. "Bass…" She trailed off, licked her lips. "I suppose that you'll do for the night."

"Well, I'm thrilled to meet your approval," Chuck retorted, his hands dropping dangerously near the curve of her bottom. And then, with a strange amount of honesty, he murmured, "You look beautiful." Not ravishing, not decadent, not any of the over-drawn adjectives he often used in his skillful avoidance of true feelings.

Across the lobby, Jenny had been fiddling with her skirt when she and Diana had found Damien. Of course, she expected his eye to stray to the more extravagant and sexily dressed of the two girls. There was, of course, an undeniable history there, and Diana was clearly the more matured of the two, so –

"Baby," Damien suddenly greeted, side-hugging Diana, but never taking his eyes off of the blonde in front of him. Jenny blushed, hesitated at the pet name. But Damien was already gathering her into his arms, lifting her just slightly from the marble floor, kissing her cheek, lips brushing her chin, then silently asking her permission for a kiss. And she nodded just slightly, relaxing when he kissed her – a kiss so light and pure that Jenny felt the sensation of it right to her toes.

"No more of this," Diana groaned in an angry huff. "As the designated bitter fifth wheel, I order you all to stop." She spun around with a little flourish, marched over to the entrance. "At least…until I'm drunk."

:::

The Waldorf-Astoria stood a quick ten minutes down Park Avenue, and the group quickly found themselves lounging upon maroon velvet seats, hands poised on Bull and Bear's luxe black counter as socialites swirled around them, conversation dimming to subtle flirtation wrought on by the bar's seductive lighting.

"But…we're all _way _underage, I mean…" Jenny trailed off when Chuck turned back, shot her a look that clearly said, _Please. I'm Chuck Bass_. And surely enough, they were all seated and attended to in a matter of seconds, the boys drinking down fine scotches, the girls idly stirring their martinis, rather preferring to drink in the atmosphere instead.

It only took a half hour for Blair to get just slightly tipsy, for Diana to grow anxious at the time – at the proximity of her post-bar plans, and for Jenny to quit pretending to sip her martini long enough to have Chuck order her a Coke. But instead of the snarky, superior remark that she expected, he simply downed her old drink, shrugged and said, "I don't blame you. I've had better gin."

And then he staggered away, appraised the girl who was not exactly his girlfriend from afar. His attraction to Blair was nearly unsettling. Every slight movement she made, even just the quickest quirk of her full, red lips, pulled at the wires running beneath his skin, brought him to life when he hadn't even realized that he'd been dying all this time. Chuck was just about to go…satiate his needs when he felt someone sidle up beside him.

But it wasn't exactly the brunette he was looking for.

"Diana," Chuck stated, already looking slightly bored as he sipped from his third drink. It wasn't as if the girl was especially happy to see him either, but the silence wasn't all that bad as they drank. Perhaps he could _attempt _to make conversation with her. She was, after all, one of Blair's closest friends now. And though he found the notion of making an effort extremely troubling, it wasn't all that daunting when he was appeasing Blair.

"I never," Chuck began, jaw tense, hands clasped together. "I never formally apologized for revealing your little indiscretion."

"Oh," Diana commented. "You mean the time you threw a tantrum and made a storm of absolute shit rain upon us all?"

Chuck rolled his eyes. "That wasn't an open invitation to file a list of complaints," he murmured. "An apology isn't a courtesy that I extend very often."

"Well, as much as that warmed my heart," Diana sighed. "It's fine. It was probably for the best, actually. Secrets are like dark clouds, and they just get larger and larger until you can't see past them – until that's all you are." Diana hiccupped, and Chuck raised his eyebrows at her, lips hovering over his drink. "I'm very profound when I'm drunk," Diana explained. "Anyway, I think that we're all in a good place right now. Damien's my best friend, and I'd take that over anything else. You need someone who can hold onto your burdens for a bit, who can…" Diana let out a tired breath. "We're all really intricate, delicate people. You can't just trust anyone to string you back together when you're broken, you know?"

Chuck considered this, weighing her words as he would let the sting of alcohol rest upon his tongue before he drank it down. Diana wasn't stupid. He realized that now. It wasn't as if he'd considered her to be particularly daft before – he rarely considered her at all.

"Don't you have someone like that?" Diana offered, prodding for information that she most likely wouldn't remember the next morning. "Don't you have a best friend?"

Chuck pursed his lips, suddenly felt uncomfortable with the turn in conversation. He supposed that Nate had been a best friend once. They'd discovered the wonders of getting high, had hit on Chapin girls before Waldorf had hooked Archibald into a boyfriend-status. And when he'd gone to Briar, he'd found a drinking buddy in Damien, no particular bond – just easy companionship.

But a person who understood him so completely, who gladly traced his pain back to her own, who rewrote his misery until there was no history before his hand in hers, before those hazy conversations in the twilight? That was Blair, he suddenly realized. Blair was his best friend. No other tepid bond could compare to what he had with her.

"Oh my God," Diana whispered, setting her drink down. It took Chuck a moment to realize that he'd murmured the words aloud in his slightly drunken state. He cursed, prepared to backtrack, already sliding from the barstool to end this conversation. But Diana stopped him, placed a hand on his arm. "No, it's okay. We're drunk, remember? All judgment is off." She hesitated before continuing. "It's just – it's scary how much you love her. It's just _crazy _that you both are tiptoeing around something so obvious."

That guarded expression returned, his eyes clouding over until they blazed. "There's a bar full of socialites here. You can't find someone else to torture with your drunken ramblings?" He glanced up, caught a flash of Blair's signature brown ringlets across the room. She had her chin set on her palm as some sleazy, suited Wall Street ape tried to engage her in conversation. She led him on with her body language, drew him in easily, but she kept her eyes on Chuck as the other man talked.

He cleared his throat, pressed his fingers into a fist. _So she wanted to play._

"Now, if you'll excuse me," Chuck said to Diana in passing, pushing away from the counter to stake his claim.

Diana rolled her eyes, waved her hand at his back as he stalked away. "No problem," Diana murmured, mostly to herself. "I have my own party to catch."

:::

_February 12th, 2008: The Tribeca Grand Hotel_

She and Nate had plans to meet up at the Tribeca, some grand hotel that Diana had only heard of once or twice. She wasn't exactly a city slicker like Chuck or Blair – even Jenny was years ahead in her experience with the concrete island. She hailed a taxi, fixed her hair, focused herself as they sped downtown. She was nervous, extremely nervous as the ticker raised and they drew closer to her destination. Things with Nate would be different now. She hadn't seen him since winter break, back when there had been a purpose to their coupling. She was broken, and he'd been there to comfort her. But what reason would they have to last now?

Diana paid her fare, stepped out, and stared up at the lights threaded across the building's face in front of her. There was no sign of Nate anywhere – just a few clusters of characters that Blair would have been appalled at, no doubt. She crossed her legs, passed a hand over her sleek ponytail as she waited outside the revolving doors. Maybe this whole thing had been a mistake. She'd never felt so insecure before Harrison had – Diana swallowed, pressed her hand against her forehead to rid herself of the memory – but now she realized that the same charming boys who swept you off your feet had the power to drop you to the ground in the same instant.

Diana hesitated again, considered hailing herself another cab when –

"Hey," a warm voice murmured in her ear. Diana jumped for a moment, felt hands on her back, then arms encircling her waist. God, Nate smelled like cologne and looked like boys did in the movies. He pulled her in for a hug, and she sighed against his chest.

"I can't believe you're really here," Nate whispered into her hair. This was a good thing, Diana said to herself. Things didn't need to be so dramatic. They could be easy – this thing between them was effortless.

"You know," Diana teased, "You kept me waiting, Archibald."

"I'm going to make that up to you," Nate replied, raising his arm, pulling her hand to hook her fingers around the crook of his elbow. He began to lead her into the Tribeca's side entrance when a rainbow-clad woman shoved through the doorway and wretched all over the sidewalk. Diana raised a hand to her mouth, and Nate frowned, pulling her back. "Maybe we should…go for a walk instead." He turned to her, started walking them in the opposite direction. "You like ice cream?"

"I love ice cream," Diana stated, so overwhelmed with the adorableness of it all that she couldn't resist planting a kiss upon his cheek. The boyish grin appeared on his lips again, and he kissed her back, gently this time, cupping her cheek with one hand. They were just about to miss the light to cross the street when –

"Nate?"

She and Nate pulled away from each other at the sound of the girl's voice. When Diana turned, rather annoyed that someone had ruined their kiss, she saw a leggy blonde making her way across the street with a gruff companion – some boy with a mop of curly hair and a plaid shirt tucked into worn jeans. The two looked like polar opposites, Diana realized. And she didn't exactly like the way the blonde dropped the other boy's hand when she saw Nate.

"Hey," Nate breathed, a bit startled. He too dropped his hands from Diana's waist and lifted one to wave to the girl. "These are a few of my friends," he whispered to Diana in explanation. "Come on, I'll…introduce you." When they drew closer to the odd couple, Diana narrowed her eyes at the blonde again, realized that she looked awfully familiar.

"I've been meaning to text you…" the girl trailed off, smiled at Diana. "Oh! Who's this?"

They moved away from the street, stood next to a high-rise as Nate stepped between the three, a clueless referee. "Diana, this is Dan Humphrey, and – "

"Humphrey?" Diana interrupted, eyeing the boy. "You wouldn't happen to be related to…Jenny Humphrey, would you?" After all, they did share the same eyes beyond the haggard look he was currently sporting.

"You know my sister?"

"Know her?" Diana echoed, her smile brighter this time. "She's, like, one of my best friends. We're all down in the city to – " Diana cut off when she realized that Dan wasn't nearly as excited about her news. She pursed her lips, awkwardly backtracked now. "I mean…I just know her really well."

Dan parted his lips to reply, but the girl beside him beat him to it. "Wow," she said. "It's a really small world, isn't it Nate? You must know Blair, too. She and Jenny were at that gala together." The blonde's mind raced as she spoke. "Do you also go to Briar?"

Diana froze, the memory suddenly coming back to her now. She'd been staying over at Blair and Jenny's dorm room just shortly after the Homecoming Ball. Blair had gone off to the bathroom, and Diana had wandered over to her side of the room, traced curious fingertips over a frame that was caught in the drawer of her nightstand.

"Who's this?" Diana had asked Jenny, staring down at the portrait of Blair beside a cheeky blonde.

"Oh, that's Serena," Jenny had replied, her voice dropping to a hush. "We probably shouldn't have that out. She's the whole reason why Blair's even here." Jenny got up, took the frame from Diana and gently placed it back at the very bottom of the drawer. "That's the girl who slept with her boyfriend."

"How do you…" Diana suddenly felt heat rise, spread across the back of her neck. She wasn't stupid, was never one to play dumb in situations like these. "How do you know Blair?"

"I'm Serena," the blonde said, carefully now. Serena glanced at Nate, then back at Diana. "I'm guessing that she never told you about her friends back home? I'm…sorry. I thought that Nate might have…" As Serena tripped over her words, realization hit Diana at full throttle. She stumbled back, put as much space between her and Nate as she possibly could on the narrow little street. She should have known from the minute that little look had passed between Nate and Serena, like they were built on a secret, like they had something untouchable. And now, instead of the genuine surprise on Serena's face, Nate's features were colored with guilt.

"I think…" Diana turned away from them, placed her hands on her knees. "I'm going to be sick."

"Hey, are you okay?" Dan called from behind her.

"No, I'm – " Diana cut off when she felt Nate's hand on her shoulder, whispers of panicked reassurance in her ear. She shoved away then, tottered back in her heels. "You knew. This _entire _time, you knew that Blair and I were friends. How could you let this – " Diana dropped her face into her hands. "Oh my God, this is so fucking surreal."

"I – ah – I think we're going to head out," Dan chimed in, placing his hand on Serena's back. "It's getting late, and we have this movie to catch, so…" He shot a look at Serena, and the blonde nodded, lifting her hand in an awkward little wave.

"Right. It was…nice to meet you," Serena offered, glancing at Nate with wide eyes. "Um, tell Blair that I said hi."

"Yeah," Diana breathed under an incredulous chuckle. "I'll put that right on my fucking to-do list." She watched the couple disappear down the street, making a sharp turn when they reached the corner, and then she turned to Nate again, hands crossed over her chest, expression furious. "What the hell is going on, Nate?"

"I didn't want to tell you," Nate started, "Because I didn't want things to be awkward."

"Oh," Diana hissed. "Well done. Because this certainly isn't awkward at all. Is this your hobby or something? Do you just go out looking for Blair's friends to hook up with? We're not collectibles, Nate."

"I didn't know at first, and I was going to tell you eventually…"

"And then what?" Diana retorted. "We would all go on double dates with her and Chuck and live happily ever? You _cheated _on her. Don't you get that?"

"Blair and Chuck are…" Nate trailed off, derailed by the picture she'd just painted in his mind. "They're together now? He's her boyfriend?"

"This…" Diana shook her head, drew back even further. "This is so fucked up." She spun around, avoided his puppy-dog eyes, his stylishly messy head of hair. She didn't cry as she walked away – no, she was done with that.

"Where are you going?" Nate called out.

"Back to my friends," Diana called back, setting her eyes straight on the sidewalk in front of her. "The choice I should have made the first time around."

:::

_February 12th, 2008: The Palace's Grand Suite_

"Did it make you upset?" Blair murmured against Chuck's lips, pressed her hips to his as he fumbled with the key to their suite, shoved the door open in one swift movement, pushed her up against the opposite wall in the next. "Did it…anger you to see me with him?" Blair yanked her fingers through his hair in an unexpected fit of brazenness. Her eyes lit with excitement. "_Show _me."

Chuck dropped his lips to her throat, used his hands to hoist her legs up around his waist. And then he pulled away, took a moment to study her, head pulled back, eyes trained on the mewling little goddess before him. Blair's head was titled back against the wall, hair pooled messily around her face. With every breath she took, her chest heaved up in offering. When she caught him watching her, she glanced up through hooded eyelids, bit down on her bottom lip through a naughty little smile.

"I'm glad that you're reaping the benefits of my insatiable jealousy," Chuck rasped, pushing forward, scratched down her taut thighs with his fingertips, pressing his evident erection into her core. Blair moaned, and Chuck's head swam in the midst of his inebriation. "You like that?"

"Yes," she whispered, pressed her heels into his thighs, drawing him closer. They fell into a rhythm – broken, anxious thrusts, kisses sloppily pressed to heated skin. Yes, her words were slurred, and he was dizzy when he lifted her higher, shoved the neck of her dress until it was scrunched up around her small waist. He would stop when they got too carried away, if they went too far. Blair wasn't one of the tipsy freshmen who had thrown themselves at him in cramped corners.

She wanted noble, she wanted valiant, and he would give her that. Chuck would worship her.

Blair's tongue found the shell of his ear, and her small fingers found the waist of his trousers.

He _would _stop, Chuck told himself again. He would stop in just a minute. He just needed to taste this part of her, just above the swell of her breast, just before the lace of her bra stretched over her chest. He dipped his head low, pulled the skin between his teeth, waited for the delicious whimper that was bound to follow.

Sadly, the moan that surfaced from deep within Blair's throat was not one of pleasure. She pulled away, her hands sliding, then scratching down the front of his chest, fingers curling into his dress shirt in a fit of unbalance, not passion. He grabbed her before she could slip and together, they stumbled back into the suite's bathroom, momentarily blinded by the flood of white light inside. She was panicked, and Chuck recognized the expression much too well.

Blair Waldorf was _monumentally_ wasted.

"As much as I love – " Chuck coughed, grateful that she was too distracted to hear him, hear the word slippage. "As much as I…appreciate your current state of undress," Chuck paused, grabbing hold of her hips to walk her over to the toilet against the opposite wall. "You're not going to puke on me, Waldorf." He bent her over, lifted her knee as he knelt beside her, not wanting her skin to bruise against the marble. Blair groaned again, her brow furrowed, her lips parted to release heavy, anxious pants.

"You'd probably deserve it," Blair half-whimpered. And then it happened. She heaved forward and hurled, hands gripping the porcelain for support. Chuck crinkled his nose, lifted his hands to pull back her hair, to hold onto her stomach and keep her balanced. Blair leaned against him, clearly horrified at herself. "This is so…" Blair shook her head, leaning forward again. "So disgusting."

At this, Chuck laughed, tucking a stray curl out of Blair's line of fire. "You're just drunk, Blair. It's not the apocalypse."

"Not to you," Blair grumbled under her breath. When she was done, Chuck pulled tissues from a box atop his counter and gingerly wiped at the corner of her lips. Blair watched him as he worked, hooked her fingers around his shoulders, trailed over and up the nape of his neck. Chuck glanced up at her and smirked, tossing the soiled paper in the trash. Blair sighed, lids fluttering in her drunken state. "Why do I feel like you're finding some sort of sick pleasure in this, Bass?"

"Because," Chuck grinned, lifting her up with a purposeful hand on her bottom. "You know me much too well." She shot him a look of disdain, then yelped when her feet left the floor, when he sat her down atop the edge of his bathtub. She watched him kneel before her, hesitated before she put her hands on his shoulders. He pulled one heel from her foot, the other following in seconds.

Blair frowned. "Careful," she warned, digging her fingers into his suit jacket. "Those are Manolos." But he tossed them aside anyway, smirked at the scowl on her face when he ran his hands up her legs, set them on her thighs. Blair watched him, calculating his expression with guarded eyes of her own. And then he pushed up, reached over to run a shower, took her hand to stand her up.

Chuck rolled her dress down, peeled it away until she was standing before him, covered in the weakest pieces of lace he'd ever seen. His throat constricted, the muscles along his hands and arms tensing wherever her naked skin touched his. _She couldn't be naked_. Not now. Not if this was his attempt at being – Chuck frowned – honorable. So he pulled her under the light pelt of the shower before she could protest, shoved his jacket up and rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows.

"You're ruining these," Blair complained, staring down at the soaked fabric clinging to her curves.

"Trust me," Chuck smirked. "I'd be happy enough to leave you dirty."

"_Chuck_." Her scolding words faded into a quick sigh when his fingers worked into her hair, when the warm water slid across her skin. "That feels…good."

"You know," Chuck remarked, turning her around, massaging her shoulders with deft hands until he drew a groan from her lips. "I did want to get you wet tonight. But this…was far from what I intended."

"You ruin everything," Blair retorted, rolling her eyes. But when she turned to face him again, she saw such concentration in his eyes. He was so focused on caring for her, so careful with his touch, as if he was afraid to ruin this all with one misstep. This was not raw and empty, nor was it senseless. This was _deliberate_. And through the haze of her intoxication, she struggled to grasp onto it.

She was quiet when he pulled her from the tub, slipped her arms into the robe he offered her, pulled her wet lingerie off from underneath. Chuck leaned against the doorway, watched as she pulled a violet toothbrush from her overnight caddy and brushed her teeth. She somehow managed to do this in a lovely way, gently stroking the brush across her teeth, covering the side of her mouth when she spit. And when Blair was done, she went to curl up underneath the golden comforter strewn across the king-sized bed at the room's center.

She closed her eyes until she felt the weight of him sink into the space beside her, heard a light switch, let the room fall to darkness.

"Thank you," Blair whispered after several long, aching beats.

"Don't thank me," Chuck told her, his voice startlingly angry. "Don't treat this like an obligation. We've surpassed the formalities."

"But you're not my boyfriend," Blair stated, pressing her cheek into the cool pillow, listening to his even breaths. "We're Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck." Her voice was heavy, her eyes fluttering shut in exhaustion. "But if you were to disappear tomorrow, I would have no claim over you. It would be as if we never existed. Not now, not ever, not together." Dread filled her, made her chest ache. "But sometimes I think that's what you want."

Chuck said nothing, and Blair didn't look at him. She wondered if he was feigning sleep, wondered what he was thinking about. But they would never be the couple that just simply asked one another how they felt – not when he hated normalcy, not when she feared abandonment. So she rolled farther away from his warmth, wrapped her arms around herself. And this time, there was no satisfaction in their emptiness.

There were no hopeless words whispered into the night.

:::

_February 13th, 2008: The Palace's Grand Suite_

Blair Waldorf did not take any satisfaction in waking up alone.

She felt Chuck's absence before she even saw the empty space in bed beside her. Somehow, there was not even a dent in the sheets, nor was there a hint of his smoky cologne lingering in the room. Just as Blair had sworn to him, Chuck came and went as he pleased, breaking and taking – leaving nothing behind.

Nothing but the two white pills and glass of lemon water sitting atop her bedside table. She sat up, overwhelmed at the pain that rushed to her head in the same instant. She fell back against the sheets, almost cried out in pain when her whole body ached in protest. Blair was hung-over, and she was alone.

Wonderful.

Blair rolled over in bed, grasped the pills, then sipped them down with the water. What a Basstard. He should either decide to be terrible or to be sweet, Blair thought. But instead, he enjoyed pulling her in and pushing her back. Rising up only to return to his shadows. And, quite honestly, it pissed her off.

Blair ignored the pounding migraine, retied her robe as she got up from bed. Light streamed in through drawn curtains, and Blair squinted against the light, admired the sharp edges of her old city from the highest suite of The Palace. She pressed her hand against the glass pane, pretended to touch building tops, nearly felt the breeze stir her Constance kilt as she sat upon the steps of the MET again. And of all people, it was her mother's voice that she heard echoing across her mind. _After you refocused, you'd be able to return to Constance for your final semester next year, graduate with your peers, save face in front of the people who will determine your future._

Blair swallowed, dropped the curtains shut again. It was then that she heard faint knocking on the door of the suite. She considered ignoring the intruder until the knocks grew louder, sounded across the room. She walked over, pulled the hardwood open to find Jenny standing in front of her, two cups of coffee nestled inside of a tray in one of her hands. Her other hand was currently occupied on her face, covering her eyes.

"Jenny," Blair hissed. "What are you doing?"

One blue eye appeared behind her fingers. "Neither of you are naked, right?

"Chuck's not here," Blair sighed, yanking the blonde's fingers away from her face. "But I'll take this." Blair plucked a cup of coffee from the tray. Jenny parted her lips, raised a finger to tell Blair that the cup was actually meant for Damien – but then she thought better of it. If Chuck was absent, that meant nothing good for Blair's temper. Jenny shut the door and followed Blair into the suite, taking a seat in the little sitting area. Blair glanced over her shoulder. "Don't act so shy, J. You weren't exactly the picture of innocence when you were making out with Dalgaard last night."

Jenny flushed, her cheeks darkening to the color of crushed cherries, and Blair smirked. "Oh," Jenny murmured, sipping from the other coffee cup, looking anywhere but at Blair's knowing eyes. "You saw that."

"The entirety of _Manhattan_ saw that," Blair said. "I'm surprised it didn't end up on – " Blair paused. "There haven't been any Gossip Girl blasts, no rumors circulating about our arrival. That's…oddly refreshing."

"Maybe she's out of commission," Jenny shrugged. She studied Blair for a moment, slightly jealous of how perfect her hair looked after she just rolled out of bed. And then she caught sight of the dark circles under the girl's eyes, the little cringe she gave whenever she stepped too quickly. "You're really hung-over," Jenny realized aloud.

"You sound a little too pleased, Humphrey."

Jenny only smiled down at the floor. After she and Blair had finished their coffees in silence, Jenny shifted on the chaise she sat on, turned to Blair, who was sitting on a plush stool by the window. "It's really early. There's a car waiting for us downstairs, but…" Jenny fidgeted with the sleeve of her sweater. "We could just hang out."

Blair raised her eyebrows. "Hang out?"

When Jenny nodded, Blair hesitated before joining her on the smooth leather couch, before lifting the remote and turning on the television in front of them. Blair flipped through channels until she came upon Heidi Klum and Tim Gunn on the screen. And instead of moving on to find a classic or one of her soaps, she left it on _Project Runway_.

"You like this show?" Jenny asked.

"_You _like this show," Blair corrected. "You're into sewing, aren't you? You said that your dream was to compete on it." Blair seemed rather pleased with herself. "Besides, I do enjoy the runway. Some of them are utter disasters." Blair pretended to gag.

"They are," Jenny giggled, sinking back into the cushions. Together, they chuckled as Michael Kors issued a verbal slap-down to one of the disaster designers. Together, they pointed out one of the most gorgeous avant garde pieces that Jenny had ever seen and swooned over it. And when the commercial break came, they shared a peaceful glance, a comfortable one. Finally, Jenny broke the silence to ask, "Do you…want to talk about what happened with Chuck?"

"No," Blair said immediately, crisply. Jenny nodded, suddenly feeling embarrassed that she'd overstepped. And then Blair spoke again. "But you're just dying to tell me what happened with Damien."

Jenny grinned. "Well…"

"Go ahead, Humphrey. Swoon away," Blair sighed, standing to order them room service, an extravagant breakfast, an array of pastries and morning cocktails – all on Chuck's tab, of course.

:::

_February 13th, 2008: The Briar Dining Hall _

Now, this was entirely built off of speculation, but Eric assumed that if Hell did exist, it would be filled with fluffy-haired, diamond-covered socialites and cream puffs. Hundreds and hundreds of cream puffs. Eric sighed, scooted another one of the processed pastries away from his plate and returned to his seat in the dining hall, where his mother was currently wiping her chair with a cloth napkin.

"Really, Mom?" Eric stole the napkin away, silently begged her to sit down. All around them, the aforementioned socialites were competing through conversations: which seniors were getting into Ivy Leagues, which houses were going to be rented out in the Hamptons that summer, which trophy wife had the biggest of the Hillary Clinton-inspired bobs. Eric pressed two fingers to his temple, feigning the power of a shotgun.

"Don't do that, Eric," Lily scolded him, yanking her son's hand away. She turned to the other parents at the table and shot them an apologetic smile. "He's just kidding. He's not…" Lily leaned in, tapped her flawlessly manicured fingernails atop the pristine white table cloth. "He's not suicidal."

"Wow, Mom," Eric chirped sarcastically, shifting away from the rest of the group. "Thanks for _that _disclaimer."

"When are you going to introduce me to your friends here, Eric?" Lily asked. She daintily cut into the pastry on her plate, somehow managing to split the puff into ten miniscule pieces, then arranged them around her plate to make it appear as if she'd actually eaten something. Eric watched all of this silently, then dropped his head into the crook of his elbow. His mother wasn't terrible – not anything like the horror stories he'd heard of Bart or Eleanor. Lily meant well in her own skewed, self-centered way, but – "Perhaps you can introduce me to their fathers," Lily joked.

Eric groaned against the tabletop.

"So grumpy," Lily sighed, poking her son's side. "You'll have to come down to Cabo with me in a few weeks so that you can relax…"

"You're suggesting that I miss school for a week at a parent's brunch," Eric stated, shaking his head. "_At school_." He shot up from his seat before Lily could come up with something even more embarrassing to say and excused himself to head back to the buffet table. And in his avoidance of Lily, that was how Eric had found a miniature mountain of cream puffs on his plate. He loaded one more onto the top, nearly gagged at the sweet stench of tainted whipped cream. Eric heard a chuckle as he attempted to balance them all on his dessert plate.

"Didn't quite take you as a puff fanatic," Ethan laughed, stealing one from Eric's plate.

"Yeah, well," Eric sighed. "I'd take clogged arteries over parental torture anytime." Eric glanced around, eyes trained on the table Ethan had just been sitting at. His mother was sitting there, sipping a limeade, her eyes glazed over with indifference. "Looks like that's quite the party over there, too. I'm jealous."

"And that's her on anti-depressants," Ethan whispered, eyebrows raised. Despite the crowd of bored students and wacky parents, Ethan drew closer to Eric, curved his body so that they appeared to be average students picking out their brunch foods. But when the line cleared up around them, Ethan leaned over to whisper, "I really want to kiss you right now." Eric cleared his throat, fought back a smile as Ethan continued, "I really want to – "

"Ethan," came a low, tense gruff from behind the two. Eric nearly dropped the plate in his hands at the sound of Mr. Merrick's voice. Eric stumbled away from Ethan, wondered how a father and son could end up so utterly different from one another. The man stood up straighter, slanted eyes set only on Eric as he spoke to his son. "Ethan, your mother needs you."

Ethan hesitated at this, forced an amused grin. "Come on, Dad. I'm not even sure that Mom's conscious."

"Your mother," the man spat, slamming his down on the long ivory table, "Needs you _now_. Go." Ethan jumped at his tone, watched his father's curled fist, then shot Eric an apologetic glance. Eric was panicked as Ethan walked back over to the crowd. He attempted to follow, but the man stepped in his way, stood over him like a brick wall of bitterness between the two boys. "Eric van der Woodsen." The man pursed his lips. "It seems that you've forgotten our agreement."

"It seems that you're the one who enjoys stalking teenage boys," Eric retorted, remembering Blair's words, Blair's command. "So it's a little strange that you keep accusing _me _of being gay – "

"Don't you dare," the man hissed. When his raised voice drew the attention of a few parents and chatting students, he set his lips in a straight line again, turned his back to the rest of the room. "Did you think I was joking? Did you think I wouldn't destroy you if I had the chance?" His gaze was murderous, momentarily throwing Eric from his stance. What _was _the man capable of doing? It wasn't as if he'd ever have any proof of their relationship, but if he did –

"There's nothing," Eric promised grimly, setting his plate down on the table. "There's nothing going on between me and your son."

"_Keep _it that way," the man ordered. "You wouldn't want anyone to get hurt under your fault, would you?"

Eric frowned. "What are you saying?"

"You know what I'm saying, kid." Ethan's father shot him one last glare before the PA system crackled from the makeshift stage across the hall. The headmistress stood at a podium, announcing the start of the school's presentation. Eric didn't bother to look back at Ethan's father when he made his way back to Lily, seeking her out for support in a way that he had not done since he was a young child. Over the sea of blonde heads, he found Ethan, but could not meet his questioning gaze. They were ill-fated and unfixable, Eric realized. They could not go back to an age of innocence now.

"Ladies and gentlemen – esteemed parents of our bright, young student body," the headmistress greeted evenly. "We're grateful to have you present here today, as it's so important that we introduce the lives of your children at home to their lives here at Briar. Our students have prepared a slideshow for you, a photographic account of their everyday routine, so if you'll just train your eyes on the screen behind me…"

Eric sighed, rested his chin on his hand. Ethan rolled his eyes up to the screen as the projector powered on. And then, for a moment, there was silence, the terrible, daunting kind of quiet that occurred just before a bomb was set off, before a person took their last breath, before disaster struck. Eric's heart halted to an unnatural stop, bile rising to his throat as he leaned forward, grasped onto the table for support. The color drained from Ethan's cheeks and he tensed, went into a paralysis so sharp that he could not even breathe.

Because on that floor-length screen, on that illuminated backdrop there for all to see, was an image of Eric and Ethan reflecting back on the real pair, lips pressed together, limbs hooked around the other's, cheeks flushed from the cold, right on the night of the Saints and Sinners party.

:::

_February 13th, 2008: The Back Woods_

When Blair, Jenny, Diana, and Damien arrived back on campus, they were exhausted. The trip home had dragged on, the river seemed to stretch longer now, and the miles were endless. Diana was colder than usual, eyes set only on the trees passing outside of the car's window. They all relaxed when they saw the familiar brick spirals pirouetting out from behind stone walls, the grounds of grass cut at an even level. They all stood out front for a moment, stared up at the building that they called home. Damien pulled Jenny along first, pressed a kiss to her temple, wrapped an arm around her as they headed inside.

Blair turned to Diana, concern etched onto her face. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Diana replied rather weakly. "I'm really tired. I'm, um…" Diana shook out of her daze, blinked back at Blair. "I'm really tired," she repeated before heading back inside. Blair watched after Diana, frowning as the girl disappeared into the building without her. God, what was wrong with everyone? Blair's throat felt tight, her skin warmed in warning of tears. Blair yanked her fingertips across one cheek, startled and livid at the wetness she found there. This weekend had been all about freedom – had been all about letting go of all that they'd been through over the past months.

Blair didn't feel free at all. Her heart belonged elsewhere, her wrists were bound in the clutches of solitude. But she couldn't just stand there. She couldn't just wait for some bumbling underclassman to find her standing out on her own in a state of such weakness. She composed herself, smoothed out her coat, wiped at her face once more before marching up the stone steps with her head tilted high.

"Waldorf."

At first, she thought she might have imagined Chuck's voice, might have still be slightly inebriated from the events of the night before. But no, he truly was standing there, perched behind the steps, a lit cigarette balanced between his full lips. Rage overwhelmed Blair's senses, and she nearly saw red when she marched over to him, yanked the cigarette away and stomped it to the ground. Chuck looked surprised for a moment, caught off guard when her tiny hands shoved into his chest, slapping him, then hitting him again with added force.

"You _asshole_," Blair seethed. "Was this whole trip just a game to you?"

"Feisty," was Chuck's only comment as he ducked away from her fighting fists, pulling his black coat around his front as a shield. Blair fumed at his words, went to hit him again, but he caught her hands, held them at her front. "Stop," he told her, his voice dropping low. "Stop, Blair." Chuck glanced around at the edge of the dormitories, the wall that faced the back woods. "I want you to come with me."

"I'm not going _anywhere _with you," Blair said as she fought him, hands struggling against his. "What – so that we can go cower in your dungeon? I'm not interested, Bass."

"Why don't you quit the tantrum," Chuck murmured, stroking his thumb across her knuckles, "and _trust_ me, Blair?" He paused, considered his own words, then added, "Please."

"Did you just say…please?" Blair asked with a slight frown, just to be sure. She leaned forward, sniffed the air between them. "And you're not drunk."

"I don't get drunk," Chuck promised, repeating the words she'd once said to him in anger, using them against her as he led her further into the darkness behind Briar. His lips lifted. "Remember?"

"You have ten minutes," Blair grumbled under her breath, pulling her fingers through his, pressing her petite body into the side of his. It was cold, and her legs could barely carry her forward in the chill. But Chuck seemed determined to get them to the shed before the sky fell completely black. When it came into view, Blair let out a little sigh of contentment, curled into him when they stepped into the pitch black hut. They stood there for a moment, and Blair grew antsy. "Why are we here, Chuck? What are we – " She froze when Chuck reached, patted his hand against one wooden wall, flipped a switch up to illuminate the room. But – Blair let go of his hand, lips falling open – this could not possibly be his shed.

"Chuck," Blair breathed, taking in the walls draped in fresh, off-white paint, chic black dots stenciled across one side of the room. The rest of the space was modeled as a Parisian suite would have been – faux shutters opening out into tiny windows, a beautiful vanity pressed up against the wall, an intricately carved wardrobe was already filled with beautiful dresses, silk that Blair always saw on the runway whenever her mother brought her to Fashion Week. The floors were carpeted, small tables stocked with her favorite flavored macaroons, issues of Vogue from around the world. And there were portraits on the wall as well – a canvas of Audrey Hepburn hanging over a chaise so grand and plush that it could outdo a king-sized bed. Blair stepped into the room, breathed in the scent of roses, took in the sight of her own wonderland.

She could feel him watching her, could feel him waiting for her to react.

"Chuck, how did you – " She stopped herself, lips smiling, eyes still wide with awe. "You're Chuck Bass."

"I wanted you to have your place," Chuck explained. "I…look at you, and I want to give you everything." He bowed his head at the admission. "I made the arrangement weeks ago, but you were upset last night. Blair, I disappoint my father, disappoint teachers, disappoint everyone who's ever walked into my life." Blair closed her eyes at his words, feet frozen in place. "But I won't disappoint you. Not again."

Blair let out a breath, passed a hand over a rack of DVD's, a little screen by her bed to watch movies, she assumed. And oddly enough, she thought of that idiot Mr. Higgins, the English teacher who'd tried to embarrass her in class. But it wasn't him that she remembered, but one particular question he'd posed to their class when they were reading _Pride and Prejudice_, one that he'd answered himself.

"What is love?" Mr. Higgins had asked, hands clasped together, leaning atop his desk as obnoxious teachers often did. "Anyone?" The room had been silent, the class had been bored and uninterested just before the weekend. Finally, Higgins had sighed, had raised his hands in front of all of them. "Love is…" He trailed off, glancing around the classroom. "Love is watching a king walk away from his throne for _her_. Love is finding the most self-centered man in the world who would fall to his knees to see her rise."

Blair blinked, finally turned to see Chuck standing behind her. "Why did you…why did you do this?"

"Permanence," Chuck stated, eyes tracing over the delicate lines upon her face. "If I were to disappear tomorrow then – " But he could no longer speak, could no longer breathe because her lips were pressed to his, her body tethered to his grasp, her tongue begging for entry, her teeth biting into his lower lip. He groaned, anchored his fingers into one hip, fisted a hand into the tangle of her curls. She shoved his coat away, pulled at buttons with quick fingers, and they fell back, fell further until they tumbled into a mess of satin pillows and a plush duvet.

Chuck pushed up, found the zipper of her shift dress and freed her from the material, ducked to kiss the hot skin between her breasts. Blair threaded her fingers into his hair, tilted her head back until the sight of the ceiling above her shifted into pinks and reds of pleasure. "Take me," Blair whispered. "Now," Blair insisted in a hush, pushing the white dress shirt down his arms until it met her dress on the floor. She stared down at him, his black hair disheveled, his sculpted features disappearing with every pass he made downwards, hot lips already kissing the inside of her thigh.

He pulled her shoes from her feet, sent them flying across the room as Blair moaned, "Prada!"

Chuck smirked, worked at the button of his pants as she writhed beneath him, fingers sliding through the hair on his chest, the line of his silk boxers. He groaned against her ear, dropped to lick the line of her collarbone. "I'll buy you new ones."

He reached down, hooked his finger into her panties and dragged them down until she could kick them away. Chuck pulled open her bra with an ease that felt fluid, much too easy when it had been so long since he'd touched her this way.

He knelt before her, traced his fingers across her breasts, followed invisible patterns down to her wet heat, sank them into her core. Blair bowed off the chaise, fingers clutching the bedsheets in a death-grip, arching her back into the perfect curve. Her eyes went to flutter shut, but Chuck's hands held her still, brought her down.

"Look at me," he said, cupping her chin with his free hand. "Look at me," Chuck repeated, more forcefully this time. Her eyes widened, her lips parted to drag in harsh breaths as Blair's hips undulated against his fingers. "Do you remember the first time I touched you?" Blair moaned when he curled his fingers further, thrust harder. "Answer me," Chuck ordered gently, stroking thick fingers along her jaw. He leaned forward, lips hovering just above hers.

"Yes," Blair gasped, hips writhing, legs shaking. "Yes. On the fields. You touched me."

"No," Chuck rasped, his fingers stilling inside of her, leaving her flushed and frustrated. "Try again."

"Chuck, please," Blair whimpered. But he would not let up, would not give her the release she was so desperate for. She wracked her brain for an answer, reached beyond what she thought she knew to what had always been there. "At the Vanderbilt house," Blair realized. "When we were younger, we played that game." She opened her eyes, rolled her hips against his hand, rolled his boxers away from his hips. "No one had ever touched me that way. No one had ever made me feel the way you did – " She grasped him, stroked his length as she spoke. " – I felt like I would die if you stopped. And I was so afraid of that feeling because I needed you, even then. I need you," Blair promised between kisses. "Even now."

"_Fuck_, Blair." His words mingled with an unintelligible groan. He reached over her, and Blair heard the tear of foil beside her head. So, this room was not entirely for her, Blair realized.

He did not fumble, did not falter in pleasuring her. Even in this stillness, he pulled the rosy bud at the peak of her breast between his lips, rolled his tongue over her skin. When he was finished, he fell between her legs, thrust against her entrance, easing her into a slow rhythm, sweat tainting her skin, even in the cold night. "So good," he husked, lips parted at the tip of her chin. "So fucking good."

"Chuck," she whispered, thighs sliding across his skin, ankles hooking him closer, drawing him into her. His thrust was slow and deep, and he held still at her gasp, kissed the hollow of her throat. When she stiffened, Chuck tilted her face to the side, pressed his lips to her ear, naughty obscenities and the sweetest endearments tumbling from his lips in a mess of grunts at feeling her so tight around him. Her eyes rolled back, a leg lifted, and she moaned, "Oh, _yes_."

Chuck thrust again, held her chin and then thrust once more. Her pants heightened along with the push of his hips, and it was not the usual amorous duel they so often succumbed to. He surrendered to her, eyes held open, letting her see the twists of pain and pleasure – the fear held there. And she surrendered to him, allowed him to pin her wrists above her head, drape himself over her body as she left her control behind and swam over a tide of blinding pleasure.

His name fell from her lips again and again, and Chuck grunted, hung his head when it was simply too much to bear. "Blair." He kissed her, left his lips there as they moved together. "Blair, _fuck_. You feel so good. There's nothing – " He heaved another groan, pressed her hands down further into the bed. "There's nothing beyond this. There is _only _this."

Blair lifted her hips now, bit down on the curve of his neck, searching, reaching. And the pleasure built as he bit her back, teeth biting into her skin, released her hands to prop her hips up, deep, punctuated thrusts sending her spiraling into madness.

"Yes, yes," Blair cried out, nails digging into his shoulder blades. It was like jumping from a ledge, spiraling down into a pleasure so sweet, so intense that she could not recognize it. And as she panted his name, as she clung to him, Chuck thrust harder, embarrassingly loud whimpers and heavy groans filling the small room as he released.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned against her cheek, followed by a steady symphony of her name. "Blair, Blair, _Blair_." His thrusts were fewer and farther in between now, broken until they stopped completely, until she pulled him down against her, gasped for breath into the curve of his neck. "Blair," he whispered again, forehead pressed into the curve of her shoulder, her hand stroking through his hair as she came down from aftershock upon sizzling aftershock.

She waited for him to speak, waited until he quietly murmured, "Waldorf, it's always been you."

* * *

**A/N: **This won't be much of an author's note because I am absolutely exhausted. But a big thank you to those who've supported me through the epic journey of writing _Wires_. There's still a lot more to come, and I can't wait to see what you guys think. I love you all. Until next time, N


	14. Sweeter Than Surrender

**Chapter 14: Sweeter Than Surrender**

_You were my backbone when my body ached with weariness._

_You were my hometown when my heart was filled with loneliness._

_Just as the dark was rising, I heard you close the door again_

_Just as the lights went off – _

_I know who I dream of._

**- You, My Everything by Ellie Goulding.**

:::

_February 14th, 2008: The Back Woods_

Chuck didn't recognize the sensation. Not at first, and not now as he held Blair under one arm, woke to the sight of her neck's nape, kissed the skin in his half-conscious stirring. Blair let out a little sigh, then tucked in closer, rolled over in bed to press her cheek against his bare chest. Her skin was hot, and yet he still shivered, jaw bone rolling underneath his skin before he pushed his fingers into the tangle of her sex-mussed hair, the locks that swept across the pillow beside them.

Chuck had never seen anyone smile in their sleep before. He watched the corner of her lips quiver now as if the mere movement was the most fascinating thing in the world.

He had once trained his body to wake up at four AM after he'd slept with a girl. It was a habit now, which would explain why Chuck was currently staring up at the shed's rickety ceiling as Blair's eyelashes fluttered, as she breathed against his neck. A long time ago, he would have woken up, would have shoved the unfortunate girl away, not caring if she was awake to see him go or not. But this was Blair, and he was tethered, like all of the other unfortunate schmucks who stood with red balloon hearts in the pouring rain, and the worst of it was that he was too swept up in the storm to mind.

Chuck cursed, squinted at the ceiling, then outside at a night so dark that it was almost bright, and Blair moaned in her sleep, disgruntled by his stirring.

"Bass," Blair mumbled, still not quite awake. "Still…so insufferable…"

He smirked, propped one hand behind his head, snuck the other under the sheets of their makeshift little bed, stopped when her back swelled out into soft skin, a smooth rise after her spine – and he pinched her bottom.

Her reaction was comical, as was most of what Blair did when it came to fighting him back. Even in her sleep, she slapped at the air, shoved her foot down as if she could stomp on his own in bed. Chuck only needed to smooth his fingers across her forehead to get her back to sleep.

"Fuck," Chuck breathed when his heart panged, made a furious attempt to beat out of his chest. He glanced down at the brunette. There was no letting go of Blair Waldorf, was there?

No, not when she already held onto so many parts of him, his mother's book, his father's regrets, his own emotions. Blair got what she wanted, and for some twisted reason, she'd wanted him. No matter how corrupted he was, a knight on his knees was in no place to deny his queen.

_I won't love you_, Chuck had once sworn. Perhaps he was fine with failing himself if it meant feeling this lightness.

He had once been addicted to horrific endings, had barhopped so skillfully that he made it seem like a full-time position, had done awful things that could stomp all over the _more_ awful things he felt inside. Chuck had once thought that the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen was a fresh dime bag and an empty apartment, a hazy-headed aloneness that made him forget who he was, that made him momentarily disappear. But now, his heart begged to differ.

There was no sight quite like watching Blair Waldorf wake up, slowly, uncurling like a stuck page. First came the parted lips, like she was surprised to be awake – the annoyed, disoriented frown followed, and then her eyes popped upon, light brown and totally amorous as she stared back. Chuck's gaze trailed down to her lips when she let out an adorable little yawn.

"Bass…" Blair murmured as she took in her surroundings, brushed her hair back with the fingers of an eternal perfectionist. "Bass!" She shot up in bed, leaving him cold and rather grumpy. "Chuck, it's Monday morning. Just _how _do you expect to sneak back into school like _this_?" She was on her feet, grabbing for her dress, the magic of the room wearing off just as quickly as it had come. "Oh, there are no _words _to describe how much I detest what you do to me – "

She gasped, lost her breath and her words when he came up behind her, plucked her dress from her hands and spun her around.

Chuck kissed her then, and it was her favorite kind of kiss: one hand so big that it cupped all of her dainty jaw, lips smooth and slow against hers, tongue tracing unintelligible patterns along the roof of her mouth. "You detest everything I do to you?" Chuck smiled. "You should stick to lying around a more dim crowd, Waldorf." His fingers spread over her back. "That's not when you were saying last night when I was – "

"Oh," Blair huffed with a crinkled nose, but she was smiling now. "Don't you say it, Bass."

" – making love to every single pretty little inch of you," Chuck continued, beginning his efforts to draw her back onto the bed. "You were so wet for me, even wetter afterwards, when you hooked your leg over mine, rode me until neither one of us could speak."

It was true. In her post-orgasmic ecstasy, in the haze of his words, how he'd whispered that it had always been her, Blair had rolled him over, brown hair stuck to her lip, eyes half-closed as she bit into his neck, rolled her tongue over the shell of his ear, making Chuck deliriously realize that she was kissing him in places that no one had ever cared so much about before.

They had been cloaked in shadows when he rolled the condom on, when he'd placed a hand on her hip to guide her through it, but Blair slapped that same hand away, wrapped her small fingers around his wrists and pinned them back over his head, just like he'd done to her.

"Waldorf – " Chuck had warned, then sucked in a sharp breath when she sank onto him, when he felt her lips part against his cheek, heard her cry out when every inch of her heat was enveloped around his rigid length. He'd tilted his head back, vision fading in and out as she rocked forward with inexperienced franticness and bit into his skin.

"I want you so much, Chuck," Blair had whispered in his ear, managing to overwhelm him when she threw her head back, then suckled the skin of his chest. Chuck's lips parted, and he shut his eyes, focused on her jagged rhythm, shifted to twine his fingers through hers. Somehow, this lack of control brought him a thrill. He was so used to control being taken away from him, from his father, from teachers – and surely she felt the same way. But they took turns allowing it to the other, led and surrendered, but fell together.

"You don't know how incredible that feels," Chuck rasped under a rumbling groan. He pressed his lips to her hair, bent one knee and used that leverage to thrust his hips against hers, relishing in the moan she bit out after, at the way she sunk her nails into his side, piercing unintentionally. "Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."

"I want you to come. I want to make you come," Blair whispered brokenly, taking one of his hands and sliding it in between their bodies, and they touched her together, pressed their fingers into the slickness at her core. She buckled, and he arched up, jerking against her as she trembled around him, losing themselves at the exact same second.

"God," Blair whispered now, on the morning after, closing her eyes when they threatened to roll back at the memory. "Don't _dirty _talk me. What's – "

"But then again, that was _you _taking _me_," Chuck mused, feeling her cheek, waiting for the blush, and – ah, there it was. "You were so…enthusiastic, Waldorf. You see, I know that this is just your unyielding OCD kicking in. I know that, in all actuality, you want me." As he whispered to her, his hand slid up the side of her thigh, and she relaxed against him. "I know that you've wanted me for a very long time. Or…did you want to play cat and mouse like we did on the first day of school?"

"Chuck, stop." Blair rolled her eyes, spun in his arms. "I don't detest you."

Chuck raised a brow. "I didn't think so."

"But you _irritate _me."

Chuck grinned. "That, I don't doubt."

She felt herself give in, leaned her light body into his chest. "Consider yourself lucky that I don't have an exam today, Bass."

He touched her collarbone, idly followed its line to the hollow of her throat, to her pale white neck, watched her skin quiver. "I consider myself _extremely _fortunate," Chuck smirked, cupping her cheek. "You know how it breaks my heart to miss out on a good Algebra quiz. And you _know _how fond I was of the tutoring session we had on your birthday."

Blair was shy now as she allowed Chuck to sit her down on the foot of the bed, as the first signs of morning cast a quiet glow on the room. The space was so pretty, so far away from everything else. She knew that if she picked away all the rest, the two of them could last – _would_ last. She smiled, touched the bit of hair that was standing up from his head. "Fine. I suppose that I could be – " Blair bit down on her lip. " – bad. If only for only a day."

The whole action was so achingly sweet – Chuck felt blood rush south, felt his pulse race. It was the moment a boyfriend would say something like, _This is why I love you_. Those words came to Chuck's tongue and held there, were pulled back and swallowed down by the pride that came with his name, that came with his _life_. He could not exist one-sidedly, his guardedness would allow no such thing.

So he said, "Blair, you're always bad. I'm indulging your pretending now. But that doesn't mean I actually believe it."

Blair's lip was a bit red from where she'd bitten down, and he leaned in, licked the spot. Chuck cocked his head, listened to the little whimper she gave when he sucked the already swollen skin between his lips. She sighed, shifted back, and Chuck followed, pressed his hands into the bed on either side of her hips. Call it magnetism. "Chuck…"

"Hm?"

Blair stared up at the ceiling, vision flickering as Chuck trailed kisses down her neck, nibbling at her throat. "Chuck – " she paused, pressed her lips together. "Did you know that it's – " She propped herself up on her elbows, brown curls hanging in her face. "It's Valentine's Day."

Chuck halted in his advances, his body curving over hers, and he looked up at her, brushed his chin against her chest. "Oh?"

Blair's grin was hesitant, but still teasing. "I know that the Bassian culture doesn't celebrate it, but – "

"Waldorf," Chuck cut in, and she suddenly felt cold as he shifted over to the edge of the bed, stared at the Parisian intricacies of the room. She watched the smooth plane of his back, bit her lip again as she listened to him ask, "You and I aren't the type to exchange infantile, heart-shaped chocolate boxes, are we?"

Blair's heart gave an angry stutter. "No," she said. "I suppose not." She was still watching his back when he pressed forward, and she imagined that he was leaning in search of a half-full flask or one of his cigarettes. She thought back to the silly little cufflinks she had hidden back in her room, the ones she'd ordered in a week ago, "CB" engraved into the silver. Chuck Bass, Chuck and Blair –it could've meant whatever he wanted it to. But now, "Forget I said any – "

"_Not_ when you so obviously prefer to feast on macaroons."

Blair frowned, a glint of silver wrapping caught her eye from atop the bed sheets. She wrapped the sheets around herself, felt so small when he slid the box in front of her. His fingers lingered on her knee, tapped against her skin. Her manicured fingers smoothed over the paper, and she tried not to smile, tried not to look at him, but she failed on both accounts.

"Explain yourself," she demanded.

Chuck smirked. "It," he said, "can explain itself."

She cocked her head to the side, buried herself in sheets, looking much like a small child on Christmas as she daintily unwrapped the box. Chuck coughed, felt emotion gather at his throat, felt he might need a drink to handle all that he was feeling right now. But perhaps the mole on Blair's left shoulder, the faint smell of her lingering perfume, her eyes widening at his little gift – perhaps that was some sort of intoxication on its own.

"Macaroons," Blair gasped, as if she needed to see the little array of pastries on her own to prove their existence. They were in all different flavors, and they smelled delicious when she leant down to take a whiff. "They smell so sweet," she marveled. And without even looking up, she shook her head and scolded, "_Don't _turn that into an innuendo, Chuck."

He laughed, and she hesitated before hooking her arms around his neck, her knees sinking into the bed as she slid a hand across his chest. When she did nothing, just knelt there, one hand over his heart, Chuck shifted, the back of his neck reddening. "Waldorf, if you want to get kinky, this isn't really the way to do it."

"I'm _checking _for a beat." Her smile was snarky as she pulsed her fingertips against his skin. "They say that a Bass's heart is an urban legend, but I beg to differ."

Chuck kissed her then, pulled her hair and covered her body with his own, molding them back into the sheets. It was the kind of unbearably sweet moment that one would wish to be stuck in for the rest of their lives. It was the page Blair would bookmark, the bump in the reel that she would press pause on if only to remember the way he looked at her in wonderment, like he couldn't understand that she was real, that she was his. He breathed life into her fragile heart, and suddenly all of the awful things became worth it.

They were living in the eye of such a beautiful storm, and she so often forgot the rain when she couldn't feel it.

"Spend the day with me," Chuck murmured as he always did.

And the skies seemed clearer than ever when she answered, "_Yes_."

:::

_February 14th, 2008: The Briar House Library_

For the first time in his life, Eric van der Woodsen was inconsolable. Things would not be okay, and he could not be fooled into believing otherwise. He was sullen, and the worst of it could not be mended into something better. Not this time. His face was pressed into one of the library's old wooden desks as Jenny traced patterns across his back, wondering what she could possibly say to make this right.

"Everything is over," was all that Eric could repeat again and again, pressing his fingernails into his palms, thudding his forehead down against the smooth surface.

"Everything isn't – "

"You should have seen my mother's face," Eric continued. "I don't think she even cares that I'm gay. It was the…humiliation. Like I did this, just to embarrass her. That's how it always is. And Ethan's dad just dragged him off – pulled him out like he was about to kill him. And I feel like I'm just some kid." He sighed, blonde hair damp against his forehead. "I'm just some kid, and I don't have anyone."

"You have _me_," Jenny insisted. "Remember when we used to sit by the courtyard and launch fries at Penelope's head? And all of the times I made you try on those costumes because the actual guys would never show up for fittings?"

Eric lolled his head to one side. "And all of the pins you stuck in me because of it."

Jenny smiled, relaxed a bit, and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. "I love our friends. But you and I were the first, Eric. I'll be here for you, no matter what. And I don't want you to be sad." At her words, Eric nodded, but he didn't smile, didn't lift his head, and Jenny felt sick in her stomach. That was what girls like her did – they promised to hold onto the pain for a little while, they promised to carry the burdens until others could handle it once more. But somewhere along the way, they'd forget to give it back. "I…don't want you to be sad," Jenny repeated.

"Hey…"

Jenny glanced up, saw Diana standing before them, books cradled against her chest, black hair piled into a sloppy bun atop her head. The blonde tried a smile at her friend, but Diana wasn't looking at her at all. She walked over to Eric instead, stroked her fingers through his hair and sighed. "Hey, kid. I heard about what happened. I'm so sorry." Diana shook her head, crouching down to Eric's level. "Nothing _you _did was wrong, okay? Whatever asshole decided to publicize _your_ kiss with your boyfriend had no right."

"That doesn't change what happened," Eric muttered, finally lifting from the desk. His shoulders were slouched, and he shook his head.

"We just…need to figure out who did this. Right, D?" Jenny paused, waited for Diana's usual sassy addition, but it never came. Jenny blinked at her friend, and Diana cut her a sharp glance before pursing her lips and looking away. Jenny swallowed. "Right, Diana?"

"I don't know, Jenny," Diana said, still staring at the wall. Jenny's heart sank when the girl avoided using her nickname. "Everyone seems so keen on hiding things here."

"What…?" Jenny trailed off, shifted in her seat. Her hair was in pigtails, and she tugged on one, unraveled the little braid there. "What are you trying to say?" Jenny called after the brunette as she spun around, headed off in a fit of frustration. Jenny whispered to Eric that she'd be right back, then shot up to follow after Diana when he gave a half-hearted nod. Jenny found her out to the hall, tripped over her own feet when she stopped her. "Diana, what – "

"Was it payback, Jenny?" Diana bit down on her lip, rolled her eyes up to glance at the ceiling. "Did you know how humiliated I'd be when I found out that I was hooking up with Blair's ex?" She let out a sharp breath. "Is that what this was?"

Jenny's knees buckled. "Oh…no."

"Nate Archibald," Diana stated. "The boy who slept with his girlfriend's best friend. The boy who broke Blair's heart. You let me tell you his _name_, Jenny."

Jenny closed her eyes for a moment. "Okay, I wasn't trying to hurt you. I just didn't have any idea what to do. I couldn't ruin your relationship. You were so happy with Nate, and I couldn't break that. Not after everything you've been through." The reasoning made Diana waver, but she held firm, a wild soul that could not be stopped until she found what she was looking for and, even then, it was not enough. Nothing was ever enough – not for her, not for Blair, not for any of them. But still, Jenny tried. "There was _no _easy way to handle that, Diana. There was no coming out ahead!"

"It wasn't about you," Diana snapped.

"It's never about me," Jenny said, almost yelling now. Those in the hall looked up from their whispering, nudged at each other to stare at the heated pair outside of the library. "That's the whole point. No one ever stops to think about how _I _feel."

Diana glanced at the ground. "Whatever, Jenny."

"No, it's _not _whatever. You know me. You know that I wouldn't do this to hurt you." Jenny lowered her voice. "I was there for you despite everything that happened, and you know that. So why are so you so upset with me?'

"Because I'm the slut," Diana announced unceremoniously, throwing her hands up in the air, pushing away from the wall she leaned on. "Every group of friends has one, has somebody that ruins everything all of the time. I'm the slut, and I keep proving to everybody that this – " She gestured to herself. " – is all there is."

Jenny gasped, began to shake her head, but Diana continued on.

"And I just really – " Diana's voice broke, and she let out the kind of dark chuckle one sputters when nothing is funny at all. "I just wanted someone to have my back this time."

:::

_February 14th, 2008: The Dining Hall_

Jenny sat alone at lunch, realizing that this was exactly the problem with threading her life into those of others. When one started off alone, solitude passed like a wisp of sad wind – still there, barely noticeable. But the pain of missing what she already had swept in a gust and hung over her for the entire period. All around her, the cafeteria was swimming in light reds – romantic for those whose veins ran with bubbly champagne and companionship, cold blood for the other lone stragglers.

Jenny dug into a heart-shaped cupcake, splitting it down the middle, then sighed before piecing it back together. She imagined that Chuck and Blair must be doing something fantastic right now, extravagant and romantic – and probably slightly immoral, as usual. She imagined that Eric might be sitting on his own, per his request, making calls to an end that couldn't listen. Ethan might be doing the same, gathering up the shadows behind his father's screams and his mother's tears, saying anything to save a love already lost.

And perhaps Diana was off kissing another nameless boy, off unbinding herself from the girl she was trying to be - to revert back to older, easier ways. Perhaps being _that girl _was easier to deal with when Diana was defining herself.

But those were only predictions, and hers was just a mind too young to grasp how fragile this all was. She tasted strawberry lip gloss and cake mix when she bit into the cupcake, but the taste was all wrong on her tongue. She pushed the treat away, pressed her face into her hands and sighed.

"Hey," came a voice, making her jump in her seat. "Can you, like, look up at me? I've been standing here, and this is getting a little embarrassing…"

Jenny glanced up to find Damien, his gray overcoat still on, his face still a bit tinted from the chill outside. And in his hands was the most marvelous bouquet of roses she'd ever seen. He was smiling at her, his dark hair tickling his ears, waving a bit at the back of his neck. Jenny's lips parted, an unattractive crumb falling from her bottom lip. And Damien smiled, blue eyes slanting, mouth curving up into a kind grin.

"Happy Valentine's Day, J."

Perhaps it was the build-up of such an overwhelming day that made the tears fall, made her push up from the table and shove her tray away. She ran out onto the balcony, where no one else was stupid enough to be in when it was so cold. Back inside, Damien was glancing around, flipping the bird to a few students who were snickering at the little spectacle.

When he found her, she'd calmed down, was just sitting on a stone bench and mumbling to herself, shaking her head at her own stupid reaction. When one blue eye peered back at him through a veil of her small fingers, he smiled.

"Shit," Damien said, rather nervously. "You're not allergic…are you?"

"Oh my God…no," Jenny sniffed, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. "Not at all." She stood up, shyly took a step towards him, covered his hands with her own as she took the flowers. "Thank you, Damien."

"It's Valentine's Day," Damien offered up as explanation, tugging on one of her blonde curls. "I told you I'm getting the hang of all this romantic crap."

Jenny giggled, rolled her eyes as she sniffed the roses. "Right, very romantic."

He nodded, rumpling her hair. "Talk to me. Why are you upset?"

Jenny sighed, hunched her shoulders, and his gray overcoat came around her. She looked at Damien, a boy who wasn't quite sure how to be a boyfriend but would do it for her anyway. And she decided to smile, decided to shake her head and will the thoughts away. "I just had a terrible day. I'm much better now."

"Good," Damien said, taking the roses back, only to drop them on the stone bench. He took both of Jenny's hands in one of his. "Because I'm about to do something mortifying. And, cute girlfriend or not, I'll kill you if you tell anyone about this."

Jenny laughed, slapped his shoulder in mock horror. "Why Damien, you just get more and more romantic by the second…" Jenny trailed off when his other hand surfaced with his slim back iPod. "Oh no…why are you bringing your iPod into this? I thought we were having a _good _day."

Damien rolled his eyes, ignored her as he scrolled through the device. "I don't know why you pretend to hate my taste in music."

"Your taste in music is _terrible_."

Damien frowned at her, then slipped one ear bud into his ear, slipped the other into hers. She heard the slow melody of a love song begin, felt his hands position themselves at her waist. Jenny flushed when he began to move, awkwardly at first because she has no idea what he was doing.

"Not this song," Jenny complained, but the smile on her face betrayed her. "This is absolutely corny, Damien."

"Hey. My taste in music," he whispered, quieting her down, "is awesome."

_I'm quiet, you know._

_You make a first impression._

_I've found I'm scared to know I'm always on your mind._

"I can't believe we're doing this," Jenny murmured, feeling the heat on her face. Damien's moves were all terribly exaggerated, and he dipped her on all of the wrong notes, but nothing had ever felt so right.

"What?" Damien smirked. "Am I embarrassing you?" The question made her pause. Just at the beginning of the school year, she was the onewho was constantly wondering if he felt the way about _her_. And now here he was, one of the most popular boys at Briar, asking her if she wanted to be seen with him. He saw her smile and asked, "What's so funny?"

"Everything," Jenny sighed.

_Even the best fall down sometimes._

_Even the stars refuse to shine._

_Out of the back you fall in time._

_I somehow find, you and I collide_

She stared off at the cluster of woods, trees swirling into nothingness as Damien spun her around. Jenny laughed, clutched at his shoulders, closed her eyes, then opened them again. But when she did, she saw a shadow in the woods, heading back from where their shed stood miles away. The girl was so far that Jenny could only catch a tangle of long, black hair. The girl was smiling, but absolutely still, her eyes had no pupils – so dark that they appeared to be two coals pressed into stark white skin. Jenny gasped, the girl stared.

_We're going to find out who did this to you_, Jenny remembered promising Eric. But what if that person had no problem with being found?

She realized then that she'd tensed in Damien's arms, that they were no longer dancing on the balcony. Jenny was shaking, and Damien was trying to calm her down, was pulling her to sit, whispering comforting words, but she could only hear the smooth trill of the song, the words taking on a new meaning now. A scarier one.

_You finally find,_

_You and I collide._

"Baby, are you okay?"

Jenny blinked, let him take her hand when she knelt on the bench, peered over the gate to look down at the woods again. But she was gone, leaving behind a chill even colder than the weather.

And a distinct fear that this would not be the last any of them would see of the girl in black.

_You finally find,_

_You and I collide._

:::

_February 18th, 2008: The Briar House Courtyard_

Blair was trying extremely hard not to think about it, and Chuck was staring straight forward as they walked up the fields the following Friday, after yet another little rendezvous in Blair's shed. But any fool could see what the two were doing as Chuck pressed his fingers into her palm, tracing idle patterns with every step back to school. Blair hooked her fingers over his knuckles, forced a steady breath when he touched the bump of her wrist bone.

Chuck and Blair were holding hands, in the most complicated form of the phrase.

It had been an accident. Blair had tripped over a fallen branch, and he caught her. And after a full five minutes of her seething at having to go to such lengths to _kiss _him in privacy, after a full five minutes of his amused chuckle and consistent eye-rolls, the brunette pair realized that Blair's hand was still holding onto his arm and was now sliding down, dancing along an unspoken boundary.

As Blair went to pull away, Chuck caught her hand, said nothing as their fingers intertwined. And Blair let out a little breath, let him lead her up the unmarked path back to school. Blair realized then that sex really did change everything. There was an intimacy that they shared now – something that Blair had never experienced at all, something Chuck had only experienced with her. They looked at each other and there was more than banter and the bond that they never wanted to directly admit to – there was his face in the moment he broke, lips falling open to inhale invisible smoke from her lips, brows furrowed almost in anger, eyes so steady she felt herself burn. She could feel that all with a simple hold of his hand, a brush of his arm.

And Blair wanted all of it, all of the time.

But it was easier out in the woods, where they could wrap themselves around one another under the cloak of midnight. Once Briar came into view, their hands dropped simultaneously. Blair gasped, and Chuck cut a glance down at where they had been connected just a few seconds before. Neither had initiated the end of their little moment, but it came, and it meant more than it would to any other couple.

"Oh," Blair said, her tone crisp, and she walked a step ahead of him once they reached the set stone path.

Chuck raised his eyebrows. "You're upset," he observed. "So you're releasing the tension by _racing _me to school?"

"I can get to school on my own," was all Blair huffed, dodging past a freshman who was on his way out to the left wing of the building. The poor boy was practically star struck by the flash of brown hair, the pouting red lips, the thin tights on her creamy legs, as Blair stormed by. Chuck smirked at him, but the smile came across a bit helplessly as he grabbed onto the back of Blair's skirt.

"You're really doing this, Waldorf?" Chuck shook his head, spun her back with one deft tug,

"You let go of my hand!"

"_You_," Chuck corrected, "let go of _my _hand."

"Right. Because the almighty man-whore was so eager to damage his reputation by _being_ with me that way," Blair stated, swatting his hand away. "I let go of your hand to save myself from an inevitability." She frowned as he ignored her, just reached into his coat to light a cigarette. Blair seethed, "And I'm glad that I did."

"You're being a child."

"You're being an ass."

Chuck rolled his eyes, pursed his lips to blow out a stream of thick smoke as she stormed away. He wasn't able to catch her skirt this time, but grabbed hold of her new mink coat, knowing just how much it would piss her off.

"I don't want to talk to you right now," Blair said, prying his fingers away from her coat. "And if you get _ashes _on my – " Blair paused when his hand came over hers. She glanced at two sophomores, who were biting their lips, staring at them with blatant interest. But Chuck kept his eyes on Blair. "You let go of my hand," she repeated, the accusation going weak this time.

"You've held my hand in other ways, Blair." Chuck pressed his lips together, as though it pained him to muster up the words. And suddenly, they were somewhere else. He was breaking, and she was picking up the pieces, knocking the flask from his hand, showing up at his father's office, staying up hours until he called her during winter break. And Chuck was mending a wound that others could not see, forcing smashed-up pieces of pie from her fingers, standing one step behind when they were kids, and coming back to her when he was nothing she wanted and everything she needed.

"Being literal was never our forte," Chuck said now.

Blair smiled, slowly, unwillingly, staring down at the grass. When she noticed the girls gushing at them, Blair cut them all a sharp glance, which sent them to face in the opposite direction, thoroughly scolded.

"Okay," Blair said, slipping her hand from his. "Okay, well – " He kissed her again, winking at the girls watching over their shoulders. A whisper of smoke was shared between them, and he held the cigarette away as her lips parted for him. She moaned, then smiled, making the kiss messy as she stumbled back. She pulled away breathlessly when he nibbled her cheek, looked over his shoulder to see familiar faces up the hill, closer to the school building. She pulled away, watched as Ethan gathered a suitcase and headed for a black car out front. "Chuck – wait."

He murmured against her cheek, "For what?"

"Ethan," Blair gasped, pushing him away once more. Chuck frowned as she walked off, ego wounded at having the object of his infatuation murmur another boy's name mid-make out. Until, of course, he remembered that Ethan was gay.

"Bass," Blair huffed, calling over her shoulder. "Come _on_."

Chuck followed after her, rolling his eyes. "Any faster, and I'd be – " He practically shuddered. " – _running_."

"It wouldn't hurt you," Blair smirked, jogging up the path with a little hop in her step.

"No, it wouldn't," Chuck huffed. "Not like you're so fond of doing."

When they caught up to Ethan, he was holding Diana in mid-hug, pounding Damien's fist over her shoulder. Jenny was smiling, offering up a little wave at the boy. And Eric was just watching on, completely void of any emotion. When Ethan finally turned to face her, Blair swallowed, forced herself to remain calm.

"You're back," Blair said, "and now you're leaving?"

"B, hey," Ethan said, dropping his suitcase to pull her in for a hug. Chuck watched on, not enjoying when _anyone _else had their hands on Blair, really. But he said nothing as Ethan pulled the brunette off to the side. When they'd reached a safe distance from the others, Ethan explained, "My dad's pulling me out of school for the rest of the semester. I'm taking private lessons until I'm _fit to return to an actual institution._"

"Basically," Blair sighed, "until you're not gay anymore."

Ethan gave a dark chuckle, shook out his hair. "You got it." He glanced at Eric, who wasn't looking at them – or anything in particular really – and he sighed. "They'll be waiting a long time."

"Well," Blair began, a startling amount of emotion catching at the back of her throat. "I don't suppose you were going to tell me about your grand exit?" She tried not to sound as vulnerable as she felt, but the feeling remained, the ever-present reminder that people always seemed to be walking away from her – the disappointment she felt when she was never quite worth an actual goodbye.

"I was going to tell you earlier," Ethan explained. "But you've been a little busy this week." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Blair frowned, shoved at his chest. "Ouch," he laughed. "No physical violence, please. I'm too beautiful to be scarred."

"You're too stupid to be speaking," Blair corrected, a hint of a smile on her lips.

Ethan stuck his tongue out at her. "I wasn't going to leave without saying goodbye to you, B." Ethan's expression fell more solemnly, and Blair nodded, sunk her heel into a little collection of gravel at her feet. "I'm not going to be gone forever, I swear. And…I'll be back in time for the junior social in May." He smiled at her, but his eyes seemed sad, as if the words served more to reassure himself. "Tell Bass to watch it. I'll have to have a dance with you then – get him back for stealing my homecoming date."

Blair smiled. "And…Eric?"

Ethan's grin fell completely. "I don't know." His eyes flashed in a haze of worried blues and greens, darkening into a confused mixed of the two, and, for not the first time since she'd come to Briar, Blair felt the pain of another person infiltrate her own emotions. "I don't know," Ethan repeated. "But I _am_ going to miss you." He scooped her up into another hug, spun her off her feet. In his arms, Blair noticed the faint blossoming of a black bruise underneath his eyebrow, spreading over until it hit the hood of his eye. Her breath caught when he put her down again, but Blair didn't say a word.

She thought of Ethan's father, then thought of the bruise Chuck had gotten when he went to see Bart in November, and knew that she didn't need to ask.

"No more getting drunk by unguarded pools," Blair murmured, forcing a stray tear away. "Understood?"

Ethan smiled. "Yes, boss." He went back up the path, Blair trailing behind him. He said goodbye to Chuck, and even _he_ felt a pang of emotion at seeing Ethan go.

But, just as quickly, Chuck cupped the back of Blair's neck, suggested that they had something to talk about in a more private place, and she rolled her eyes at his suggestive undertones before following him into the main hall.

Jenny and Diana also glanced at each other for a moment, each quietly daring the other to say something. But it was to no avail. They each spun in the opposite direction, Jenny's arm linked through Damien's, Diana pulling out a cigarette bummed from Chuck's stash ages ago, holding it under her palm as she smiled at a passing librarian.

This left Eric and Ethan alone. Luckily, Ethan's father had been otherwise occupied that Friday, and the boy was sent to gather his things on his own. But now, without the blanket that their secret had once provided their love trembled, and it was an affection to unsure to move mountains.

"I couldn't call you back," Ethan spoke up first. "There was no way." Eric nodded, sat atop one of the cement steps, tie loose around his neck. Ethan sat beside him, a plain blue sweater on, jeans underneath, already appearing to belong to an entirely different world. "But I missed you everyday."

Eric said nothing.

"Here's where you say, _I missed your fine self, too, Ethan._" The older boy laughed nervously, hoping the ill-timed joke would get through to his…boyfriend. He wrapped an arm around Eric, and a few passing seniors snickered, the image of them that had been on display still fresh in their minds. Eric physically tensed, and Ethan slid away. He continued, "I mean, we've been through worse than this, Eric. If we can handle the coma, we can handle my jerky dad."

"Yeah," Eric breathed, "but I don't think I can."

Ethan blinked. "Wait, what?"

"I told you once that we were kidding ourselves by trying to make this work," Eric explained. He scratched the back of his neck. "After your dad threatened me…"

"My father _threatened _you?"

"Look, it's not worth it!" Eric forced himself to say. Tears spilled from the boy's eyes, and he wiped them off with the back of his hand. "There's always going to be something standing in the way and every time there is, someone gets hurt – " _You always get hurt. _" – and I don't want to do this anymore."

"I looked my father in the eye and told him that I love you," Ethan said, incredulous. "I did that for you because I want to be with you. I may not be the smartest guy, but I've always fought for what we are. I just need you to back me up on this – to _wait _for me."

On impulse, they both trained their attention on his scarred face. Eric wanted to touch the spot for a second, his finger twitched at his side, but he wouldn't. If he'd learned one thing from his mother, it was that love didn't stand for a thing if sacrifices weren't ready to be made. Perhaps Lily van der Woodsen couldn't, but her son would.

"You only wait for the people you actually want to be with, Ethan."

Eric never did see Ethan's face when he said the words. He didn't look back, and Ethan didn't say his name. Eric was too busy speeding up the steps and back into the building, convincing himself that he was just a stupid kid, that this was just silly love. When he blocked out the sound of the car outside cruising away with his own beating heart, Eric could almost believe it.

"_I've been doing everything you asked_," hissed a sharp voice from underneath the grand stairwell, making Eric stutter between steps. He paused, quietly sitting down at the foot of the velvet staircase, poking his head around the curve of wood to catch Penelope with her arms crossed, her expression furious. "I'm going to get expelled, and there's been nothing in this for me."

Eric narrowed his eyes, listening as she continued, "No…they don't suspect a thing. The rest were easy, but Chuck and Blair are going to be difficult. And I still don't get why you would bother with - " The girl let out a crisp sigh as she listened to the person answer, and then she suddenly stood up straighter, eyes widening in realization, a wicked smile curling on her lips. "_Oh_. That's perfect." Penelope and Eric both heard the hum of a low answer, and then the phone gave a sharp click.

Penelope spun around, throwing her phone into her bag, catching Eric just as he feigned nonchalance, just as he pretended he had just been innocently en route to the student lounge. Penelope shoved her shoulder into his, hissed, "Watch where you're going, freak."

"The Blair Waldorf wanna-be is calling me a freak," Eric remarked. "I am so…shattered."

"I don't want to be Blair Waldorf. I don't _need_ to be her to get what I want," Penelope retorted. But before Eric could process this, the girl continued with a little smirk, "Saw your boyfriend leaving. Did you remember to give him a final smooch? Maybe that one will make it into the school paper."

"Crazy, right?" Eric shook his head. "Must really bug you that even _I _got a boyfriend before you did."

"Word of advice, loser," Penelope spat, "next time you're sneaking off to the East balcony during school dances to make out with your boyfriend, be a little more discreet."

Eric narrowed his eyes. "What?"

Penelope mirrored his expression. "_What_?"

"There are, like, ten balconies on campus. The picture was low quality at best, from the neck up. And suddenly you're naming details like you were there." Eric frowned. "_Were_ you there?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Penelope snapped. "And if I were you, I wouldn't be throwing around accusations that way." She shoved past him again, stopping just one step away. "You're all doing this to yourselves, you know. Pictures just show reality for what it is." Eric turned around, fists curling, as she said, "Pictures just show secrets for what they'll always be."

Penelope smiled. "Lies."

:::

_February 18th, 2008: The Main Hall_

"_Stop _it, Chuck."

"You see, this part of your neck tastes so good," Chuck remarked, sending a rush of trembling breath up the slope of her jaw. "I like the way you say my name. It's so sexy, Waldorf. And just…slightly murderous."

"Do even realize how deranged you sound when you speak?" Blair asked. But still, her fingers sank into the fabric of his shirt, her body was pressed into his, a highly compromising position to be caught in while they were just outside of the main offices. "I swear, Bass, if you don't stop, I'm going to – " She pressed her lips together, closed her eyes when his thick fingers found the zipper of her skirt. "I'm going to _hit _you."

Chuck smirked. "Will it turn you on?"

"I'm serious – "

"Mister Bass, Miss Waldorf?"

He chuckled against her skin at the authoritative tone, and Blair tensed, shoved him away with all of her might. Chuck cursed when he stumbled back against the opposite wall, which only made the whole situation worse.

"Oh my God," Blair murmured, only semi-relieved when she saw Mrs. Reginald standing before the pair, lips parted in obvious shock. Blair scrambled, did her best to pat down her frazzled appearance, already plotting thirteen ways in which she could murder Chuck Bass without anyone finding out. She threw him a sharp look when she said, "He was obviously assaulting me."

"Is _that _what we're calling it now?" Chuck's laugh was loud, thoroughly amused. And even through her anger, Blair savored the easy sound, tucked it away to replay his laugh when he could find nothing in his life to smile about. Because, despite the fact that she despised him and his wickedness throughout the majority of their relationship, Blair knew that she would always want to give this to him – laughter. She could think of no one else who deserved it more.

"Okay, Blair," Mrs. Reginald coughed. And, for once, it was _her _who was slightly flushed at having walked in on the recently bonded couple's intimate moment. "It's time that we start our session. Leave her alone, Chuck." Her command was firm, her tone just slightly amused.

"Just a moment," Chuck drawled, reaching up to cup the back of Blair's neck. And though the girl wriggled and protested against him, he kissed the corner of her lips, smiling up at the counselor as he did. "Mrs. Reginald," Chuck finally nodded, leaving Blair annoyed and slightly dazed as he walked off.

The counselor turned away as she shook her head, making sure that the two students could not see her smile.

Once inside, Blair found herself content as she sat in that gray seat she usually dreaded. She tucked her kilt under her thighs, clasped her hands atop her lap, then quickly reached up to touch the place where Chuck had probably ruined her freshly spun curls. But he hadn't – Chuck never messed up her hair. For a boy who could be so rough and inconsiderate, he always managed to follow the perfect spirals as he weaved his fingers into her locks, leaving them as they were.

All the while, Mrs. Higgins sifted through her files, cheerily recounting Blair's flawless grade point average, Blair studied her nails, glanced at her phone and flushed when she found the stream of purposefully naughty text messages from Chuck there. She powered the entire device off.

"You know that the thing that happened with – " Blair's nose wrinkled, " – Harrison hasn't fazed me. My grades have been stellar, my friendships even more so."

"Okay," Mrs. Higgins nodded, folding her files shut. She stared at the brunette for a moment before asking, "And your relationship?"

Blair snapped to attention. "What relationship?"

"Blair, we both know that you're seeing Chuck Bass."

Blair forced herself not to smile, crossed her arms over her neatly ironed uniform shirt. "I've been seeing a lot of him, unfortunately."

Mrs. Higgins smiled at the girl, and Blair rolled her eyes, knowing that the woman was already poised to begin yet another psycho-analysis of her feelings for the ridiculously smarmy boy. "Blair," Mrs. Higgins said, dropping her tone. "It's okay to like Chuck. You know that, yes?"

"I don't want to talk about Chuck," Blair lied. "These sessions are supposed to be therapeutic, and you're bringing up the main cause of my daily stress." Blair shook her head and added, "You're doing your job terribly."

"Perhaps you're afraid to say it out loud," Mrs. Higgins remarked, ignoring Blair's complaints. "You clearly emphasized your feelings for Nate when you were with him, and you ended up with your heart broken." Blair's stomach lurched, and she suddenly felt sick, felt the leftover embarrassment of gushing about the golden-haired boy to everyone she knew while he was sleeping with her best friend. "Perhaps," Mrs. Higgins continued, "you're afraid that revealing your feelings for Chuck will result in the same disappointment."

"I don't feel the same way about Chuck as I did about Nate."

Mrs. Higgins seemed surprised by this. "You loved Nate."

"Yes," Blair reasoned. "But Chuck is just…" She frowned, dropped her hands back into her lap. "Chuck is just _more_."

"Hm," Mrs. Higgins murmured. "He makes you feel out of control." Without waiting for Blair to answer, Mrs. Higgins stated, "Your feelings for Chuck were not a decision that you could make."

Blair shook her head, unraveling a curl herself. "I like knowing how things are going to turn out. Is that…" Blair cleared her throat. "Why is that wrong?"

"It's not wrong, Blair," Mrs. Reginald sighed. "You're not the first girl to crave safety after being hurt." She leaned forward, as if the two were close friends, exchanging secrets. "But I've sat here as you walked into this room countless times, claiming that Chuck Bass is the most manipulative, terrible human being on the planet." Blair parted her lips to argue, but Mrs. Reginald interrupted again. "And yet, all I see is the same boy making his feelings for you quite clear, while _you _pretend to feel nothing at all."

"That's not exactly true," Blair whispered, remembering when he took her on the floor the previous night, pressing all of his weight onto her, thrusting so slowly it drove her mad. And all the while, she whispered things that were so sweet, so amorous into his ear, that she'd even surprised herself. He came first that night, brokenly and beautifully against the curve of her shoulder.

"That's not true," Blair firmly repeated. "But if I tell him that I love him, something bad is _going _to happen. I always does with us. Five months in this school together, and look at everything we've been through already." Her chest tightened in panic. "What will we be if one of us isn't coming out ahead?"

"Blair, from what he's told me…"

Blair paused. "He speaks to you about me?" She raised her eyebrows, lifted her shoulders. "What did he…what has he told you?"

Mrs. Reginald shook her head, realized her mistake. "Blair, you know that I can't do that."

"But – "

"No."

"Just a quick – "

"_No_," Mrs. Reginald laughed, drawing away in fear that the insistent brunette might lunge across the table in search of Chuck's file. Feeling sympathetic, the counselor smiled and said, "You're just going to have to trust that you've found someone who loves you because he wants to. Because it's impossible for him _not _to."

Blair was quiet for a long time after that, and then she whispered. "I wouldn't recognize that feeling."

And in her twenty years of counseling, Mrs. Higgins suddenly realized that it was the saddest thing she'd ever heard.

:::

_February 18th, 2008: Wentworth Hall Dormitories_

Blair found it disturbing that she was so used to sneaking into the boy's dormitories at this point. She was getting as good at it as Diana was and thought that she might have to throw some more tutoring hours into her schedule to feel a bit more…saintly. But still, she pushed the thought from her mind as her fist knocked against Chuck's lone door, shyly wrapping her coat over her pajamas as she did so.

It took him quite a while to answer, and Blair rolled her eyes, imagined him sluggishly rolling out of bed, stepping into the low beams that the moonlight cast on his floor, then stepping into the darkness again. She bit down on her lip when he appeared before her, eyes sleepy, hair ruffled, silky and striped pajamas unbelievably attractive on him.

He squinted at her, smiled before sobering his expression. "Waldorf?" His voice was still deep, husky from sleep, and Blair felt faint.

"I couldn't sleep," Blair whispered. She lifted her chin. "I want to come in."

Chuck raised a brow. "I thought you were only going to be bad the _one_ time."

Blair rolled her eyes. "Chuck…"

"I'll let you come in," Chuck allowed, then smirked at her, just to rile Blair up. "But only if you say that you need me first."

"_Bass_."

He laughed as she shoved into the room, placing a dainty little hand on his chest. Blair shed her coat, and his arms slid around her waist, pausing at her stomach, fingers spreading over her soft pajama top, knowing that touching her there gave her the urge to hurt herself – knowing that he would keep doing it until she no longer felt that way.

"You feel so good," Chuck breathed into her neck, not to be particularly romantic, but just to share the observation with her. Blair stared into his room, seeing nothing, not needing to. She was able to breathe when his hands found her hips instead, when his front pressed into her back, and he kissed the lobe of her ear.

"When did we become this?" Blair asked, her voice just barely over a whisper. "We were nothing before, and suddenly we're all-consuming, incomprehensible."

It hurt, to hear her say that. They had always been something to him. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to." It was a lie. They both knew it.

"Do _you _want to?"

Chuck paused, offering up nothing. He'd already put his words on the table, and it cut him deeper with every second that they went unheard.

"We could break at any moment," Blair continued, his arms still wrapped around her.

"Could we?" Chuck's fingertips skimmed her chin, unseeing as he touched her face, her lips.

"Always another question," Blair whispered, swallowing, throat constricting under his touch. "That's why we never give each other the right answers, isn't it? We're too afraid of being finished."

Not another word was spoken as he took her hand, surely this time, put her in his bed as if that was where she'd belonged the entire time. They touched each other in silence, skin scalding skin on the coldest night of the year. It was a room so dark that they can only count on their fingertips for sight, could only listen for the sharp intake of breath when one of his hands held her shoulder and the other slipped beneath her panties, could only listen for the low hum in his throat when her nails raked down the line of his spine.

Chuck didn't answer her question that night.

Being literal had never been their forte.

* * *

**A/N: **Hello darlings. So, this was quite a short chapter, but I felt like everything that needed to happen at this particular moment was all there. So, what do we think? Was Blair right when she warned that they could break apart at any moment? Between Chuck and Blair, you never know. As always, I can't wait to hear what you thought about CB's developing relationship and the unfurling mystery behind this darker take on Gossip Girl. Until next time, N.


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